Corrupt Authority
by Pokemon Fanfiction Novels
Summary: It is the year 2008 in an alternate reality of the Pokemon universe. The spirit of Imperial Japan is re-emerging, resulting in the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokemon (G.R.I.P.). Their mission: to confiscate all powerful pokemon and limit trainers to two pokemon each. This is the story of two brothers who have committed to fighting back, thus sparking a revolution.
1. Chapter 1

_Pokémon are creatures of unconfirmed origin, bearing elemental powers of epic proportions. They stand superior to most other animals on the planet, and are to be regarded with utmost respect for their capabilities. Hell, if they all were to join forces tomorrow, it wouldn't be farfetched to suggest that pokémon could overcome people and take charge of this world. But what have we humans done with these magnificent creatures? Rather than worship them as the gods they are, we have enslaved them, and forced their natures for the sake of petty sport._

 _Six pokémon to a trainer. Unlimited holding space to store the other, unneeded captives. Billions upon billions of yen invested each year on capture balls, potions, and other devices created for the sole purpose of promoting perverted tyranny over innocent creatures, in the name of greed. And to think, we're teaching our children that this despicable evil is not only acceptable behavior, but somehow honorable? What have we become? Where is our shame? Whatever happened to virtue?_

 _It must be stopped. It MUST come to an end!_

"Put on your raincoats, front row folks, because Brendan's Swampert has just summoned a tidal wave from the field's pool!"

The roaring of the stadium crowd was drowned beneath the mighty echo of rushing water as a wall of water stacked itself between the two pokémon combatants. A gargantuan blue creature leaped upon the Surf attack it had created, and from ten feet below, its rocky opponent stared up with a mingled expression of defiance and horror. One moment later, the massive wall of water smashed relentlessly down upon its victim, crushing the target into the dirt. As the water drained, Swampert stood victoriously over its fallen foe. The referee held up his flag.

"Adamanteres is unable to battle. Swampert is the winner!"

As the stadium erupted into cheers, Hibiki vaguely heard an indignant voice issue from behind him.

"Will you turn that television down? You have the volume up WAY too loud."

"Sorry, Mom," the fourteen-year-old replied without taking his eyes off the luminous screen. "It's hard to keep it constant. The commercials are even louder than this match, and the stupid people in the audience keep screaming at the top of their lungs. Kenta must be going deaf out there."

"Have you seen him yet?" called a masculine voice from behind Hibiki.

"No, not yet, Dad." Hibiki turned briefly away from the T.V. to observe his father, who was standing on a stepladder in the middle of the living room with a lightbulb in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. "You're still working on that fixture?"

"I'm getting there, but this damn ladder-"

"Hiko!"

"Sorry dear- this ladder is wobbly, so I'm going to have to tighten it up first. Who's winning, by the way? Birch, or that girl from the Herron Region?"

"Well, Rosette was winning. But now they're tied with-"

"-one pokémon left on each side, and the tension is rising as we all eagerly await the sight of Trainer Rosette's final battler!" roared the commentator over the din of the crowd. Down in the stadium's third row, almost indistinguishable from the rest of the spectators, two young men sat side by side waving banners with the Hoenn League symbol stamped upon them. Kenta Nyna, a fairly long-haired man with a youthful face, turned jubilantly to his companion in glasses and a traditional kimono. "You see, Curtis? What'd I tell you, dude? Didn't I say this would be the greatest match ever?"

Curtis Kuchinana, who at age eighteen was a year younger than Kenta, looked down at the mess of popcorn at his friend's feet, which Kenta had spilled when leaping out of his seat at Swampert's defeat over Adamanteres. "I'm glad that your hero is making a comeback," he said collectedly. "But you're acting even less mature than usual, Kenta. I've never seen you so riled up over a match before."

"We should savor every moment of this," Kenta mused, leaning forward in his seat and watching as the female champion from Herron tossed her last pokeball down onto the battlefield. "Dont forget, we're viewing the last big match of the year. The toughest of the tough pokémon."

"And Rosette summons Revelashine, the All-Seeing pokémon!" cried the announcer, as a glowing quadruped with enormous eyes appeared before Swampert. "Well, Brendan has fought this whole match against unfamiliar pokémon from the elusive Herron region, but now his Swampert wages war against a newly-discovered type! Who will take home the trophy; the pride of the Hoenn region, or the first Champion of the mysterious Herron?"

"Time to get the cops' input on this," muttered Curtis with a smirk, eyeing Kenta cheekily. Kenta returned the grin with an apologetic smile. "Now, now, Curtis. That's classified information."

"Oh, bull crap. Come on, Kenta, don't dangle it over my head."

"You're right," Kenta laughed in defeat, "what kind of a friend am I? Alright, the Herron pokedex is still under construction, but we know that there's at least one official new type, possibly the ONLY one. It's called the Light-type, and Revelashine is a third-evolution pokémon of that attribute."

"Uh-HUH." Curtis adjusted his glasses and watched with interest as Rosette's Revelashine charged down the field at Swampert in a burst of golden light. "He looks kind of puny for a third form. What are their stats like?"

"Better than average. You could say he's like an Ampharos, or a Nidoqueen, or critters like that."

"Oh, okay. Basically, he's like the first pokémon you'd get in your party who remains reliable throughout the whole region?"

Kenta took his eyes off the match for a moment to look at Curtis in wonder. "That's actually a really good observation," he marveled. "Are you sure you don't want to come work for Silhouette someday?"

"Nah," said Curtis, watching Swampert bulk up its chest and absorb slam after slam from its glowing foe. "I can't stand taking orders. I get enough from Grandpa already, y'know? He takes more apricorns than he can handle, and then I get stuck with a majority of the load because his hands are getting too old and shaky. He's always yelling at me to- woah, did you SEE that?"

Down on the battlefield, Brendan's Swampert had unleashed Bide, drawing back a fist and mashing it into Revelashine as the glowing ball of light shot past. The skull-shattering blow sent its unlucky target skipping over the field like a flat pebble on water, and only the arena wall brought Revelashine to an abrupt and resounding halt. The crowd let out a collective "ooh!" as they cringed at the brutal attack, and after a few seconds, the referee raised his flag.

"Revelashine is out of the match. The victory goes to Swampert!"

The crowd erupted into a frenzy of cheering, and everyone bounded to their feet. "That's it!" came the announcer's excited, booming voice, "This year's tournament is finished! Brendan Birch of Littleroot Town has defeated Rosette Cedars of Russet Town in the deciding battle for the pokémon international championship, with a final score of six to five! Well done, trainers, well done!"

As the announcer continued to issue congratulations to all of the League finalists of 2007, Kenta took his eyes off the two pokémon gasping on the battlefield and looked instead at their trainers. The defeated Rosette Cedars was no longer on her command platform, but he could see her sliding recklessly down the side of the battlefield wall towards the spot where her fallen Revelashine lay. Her down-turned face was invisible under the hair which covered her eyes, but Kenta could guess she was probably in great emotional pain. Was it from losing the final match? No, too petty. It was Revelashine. How badly hurt was the poor bastard? That final Bide attack had been overkill. He'd been smashed harder by Brendan's Swampert than almost any other pokémon that Kenta had ever seen in his life.

Almost, but not quite. He'd seen worse.

On the other side of the field, the champion himself stood in a hunched posture with his fingers gripping the safety bars of his platform. Because he was seated much closer to Brendan than to Rosette, Kenta could actually see the young master's face. Brendan's eyes were glazed over as though in stupor, yet alive with an absolute battle frenzy. Kenta could see his teeth; though they were bared and clenched tightly together, Brendan appeared to be chewing on something. Being a major fan of Brendan (to the point that he'd actually dressed up as him for the match), Kenta had observed Brendan's zen-like battle state in the past, mostly through the television set. He chewed nothing during battles, lest it hinder his vocal commands. Yet here he was, chewing on all the pressure that came with a major pokémon battle rather than letting the pressure eat _him_ up. That was the cost of being a good trainer. In order to bond as one with your pokémon, you simply had to empathize with their pain, and bear the emotional grinding mill of six exhausting battles in a row. From what Kenta could tell, Brendan was still catching up from somewhere further back in the battle, perhaps from when his Gardevoir was pressure-hosed by Rosette's Narwill, or when his Slaking had been incinerated by a devastating Flame Pillar from her Liegorin. He bore the pain from it all. Soon enough, he would also bear the pain of the dentist's drill for ruining his own teeth.

"Man, what a match!" beamed Curtis, as the spectators around them began heading for the exit. "The ending was a bit anticlimactic, though. I thought Rosette's last pokémon would've lasted a lot longer than that." He looked at his friend, who appeared to be in a trance as he stared continually out at the battlefield before him. "Hey, Kenta. Kenta. Officer Nyna. Look, that woman's being harassed by somebody!"

"What? Where?" Kenta tore his eyes away from Brendan and stared intently at Curtis. The latter raised his hands and smiled. "Ha ha, I kid. You were in a daze."

"Oh, for Pete's sake." Kenta grinned punched him playfully on the arm. "Don't do that, man. I thought you were serious."

"Hey, ow!" complained Curtis, rubbing his arm. "That was hard. You know what? I was about to tell you something good, but I don't think I will, now."

"I'm sorry. What is it?"

Curtis pointed down in the battlefield, where a PKTV Network crewman with a camcorder was coming around with the camera pointed at the audience. "Didn't you say your brother was watching? That guy down there is about to pass us. Since it's a live broadcast, nothing will be censored . . . want to moon the camera, or give him the finger or something?"

"Nah." Kenta lowered his head a little and turned to get in line with the retreating crowd, feeling suddenly depressed. "I would have, earlier. But there's no point now. I'm going to go before the street gets too crowded."

"Eh? But he's right here! . . . Kenta!"


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Although the default is to label each new update as a "chapter," this story is not broken down into "chapters" so much as parts of equal length. I intend to update daily at a constant page-length of 4, so you readers will unfortunately have to deal with abrupt stops and starts.

"Mom! Dad! Brendan won! Brendan won!" cheered Hibiki, bouncing up and down in front of the television. He turned around and pointed eagerly at the television, and his parents moved forward to get a closer look at the screen. "Well, isn't that nice?" said his mother, semi-interestedly. "Kenta was rooting for that young man. I'm glad for him." She knelt down so that she was head-level with Hibiki, watching as the television switched pictures from an overhead view of the stadium to an up-close shot of Brendan's impressive face. "Look at him. They're about the same age, aren't they?"

"Look at who?" asked Hibiki's father from behind. "Did they just go by Kenta? I can't see, dear, you're blocking the screen." His wife cast him a casual glance; he was sitting on the second-highest rung of his ladder. "You really can't see from there? Aren't you supposed to be fixing that bulb?"

"Yes, dear."

"I get to be an official trainer when school's out next year, right?" Hibiki asked his mother forcefully, using the television images to emphasize the visions of his dreams he'd repeated to her a thousand times in the past. She smiled wryly at him. "The deal stands, young man. You have to graduate middle school with all A's- no exceptions. And learn to feed your Munchlax regularly- have you done it today?"

"Yeah, I have," Hibiki replied with the same determined fervor. "I'm responsible. I could've left four years ago, and you know I would've been fine."

"You wouldn't have even had enough money at that point," his mother reminded him gently. "Hibiki. Why are you so anxious to leave us like this? When I let Kenta go at age sixteen, you can't imagine how much I missed him every day afterward. Stay with me. With your father and older brother gone all the time, I need you to be my man of the house." She looked at him with imploring eyes. "Won't you reconsider?"

"Mom . . ." Hibiki looked at her helplessly. "Listen, I-"

Without warning, the television suddenly went snowy, and a moment later, an anchorwoman appeared on the set with the words "emergency broadcast" taking up the bottom quarter of the screen. As Hibiki looked on in surprise, the woman glanced uncertainly at something off the side of the camera, then hastily redirected her attention to the audience. "Hello, and good afternoon, Japan," she started, "PKTV apologizes for cutting into your usual program time. We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a special announcement live from the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokémon. Please do not turn your television sets off for the next twenty-"

"What's going on?" asked Hibiki's father, leaning forward on the ladder. Without warning, the ladder suddenly lurched over and shook the living room floor as man and contraption crashed to the ground. "Dad!" yelped Hibiki, immediately forgetting the broadcast, "are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he answered in an offhanded tone, glancing for a moment at the ladder. The metal was twisted at a bizarre angle. "Damn. It's broken. But more importantly-" he knelt down in front of the television, "what could G.R.I.P. possibly have to say that's so important as to warrant an emergency broadcast?"

"-go now to Department Chair, Silvaki Kurisawa," the announcer was saying, and the camera changed from the PKTV newsroom to a completely white room with a speaking pedestal and several microphones at center shot. Behind the pedestal, an increasing group of middle-aged men and women wearing suits and formal dress were taking their seats in fold-up chairs. A single man took his place at the pedestal, with his hair combed completely to one side, and wearing particularly small spectacles just below his eyes. To Hibiki, the tops of the glasses gave him the look of a man with unnaturally thin-slitted, glaring eyes, while the lenses magnified the bags under his eyes to a larger size than usual. He took on the appearance of one who had been fighting something for a long time, and had become weary because of it.

"Pokémon owners of Japan," Kurisawa began in a solid voice, as blue flashes from cameras illuminated him, "I come to you today with both sorrowful and joyous tidings. To begin, let us set aside every impression we've ever had of those mysterious, remarkable creatures called pokémon. Just for a moment. Now . . . consider their origin. Remember that ninety or so years ago, our parents and grandparents beheld a meteor shower above Mount Moon, carrying the bacteria which mutated the genetic codes of all animals in the vicinity. Mount Moon, the very center of the nine pokémon regions, gave birth to pokémon on that fateful night."

 _Wait a minute . . . isn't that just a theory?_ thought Hibiki, as he and his parents watched the television set in silence. _Nobody truly knows where pokémon came from. He's going on with this theory as though it were absolutely the only explanation_.

"Ninety years. That's how long it's been. We've had electricity longer than we've had pokémon. Yet instead of carefully investigating these amazing creatures for the last century, we have been taking them for granted and ignorantly using them however we please. We've been most fortunate that, in all these years of handling the fire, we have not gotten burned.

"At least, not all of us. But I'm afraid this is where the sorrowful tidings come. As some of you may remember from last week's news story, Pokémon Trainer Suzu Yukinari lost the use of both her hands when attempting to harness a Rapidash in her local ranch. And a month before, the late Yahiko Tskune was electrocuted to death by a wild Raichu, during a failed attempt to capture it. He was eleven. Of course, let us not forget the various orders of rogues who have tried exploiting pokémon to achieve their own ends. Rocket. Magma. Aqua. Snagem. Cipher. Galactic. Innuendo. Do any of these names ring a bell? Countless casualties and thefts have resulted from irresponsible trainers having pokémon available to do acts of evil which would have otherwise been almost impossible.

"But be of good cheer, for now it is time for the glad tidings! G.R.I.P., after years of debate and reasoning, has achieved cooperation with the whole Japanese government in a joint effort to make this land a safer place for all. Effective January 1, 2008, new conditions for pokémon training will be set down. Some renovations will result from these plans, and some hopeful future trainers may have to wait a couple years longer before making their journeys, but for the most part, nothing will change."

 _What's that supposed to mean?_ wondered Hibiki furiously, staring at the television screen in a panic as Kurisawa was handed a piece of paper by one of his associates sitting behind. _Renovations? New conditions? An age limit?_ He bit down hard on his lip, barely feeling the sweat slide down his temple even as the blood trickled down his inner mouth. _I think the government's about to screw me, big time._

Kenta's mind dimly registered the sound of his cell phone ringing as he and Curtis pushed their way slowly through the tightly-packed stadium chambers. Pulling it out, his eyes widened as he recognized the music: Metal Gear Solid, death theme. Looking around quickly, Kenta noticed a door marked "DO NOT ENTER: EMPLOYEES ONLY" leading in to a food concession booth. He waved Curtis over, and the two of them broke off from the main crowd and stopped at the door. Kenta raised his phone. "Sorry Curtis. I gotta take this."

Before his friend could nod any confirmation, Kenta ducked through the door and knelt to the ground, facing the wall. "Hello?" he muttered into the phone. "Sergeant Nyna here."

"Kenta Nyna," came the familiar voice of his laidback acquaintance, Captain Wester Arcada. "How are you? How was the match?"

"It was great, thank you, sir. Brendan's Swampert was amazing."

"I just heard about it myself. I'm very glad that your hero got to take the trophy home."

"Thank you, sir."

". . . are you all right, my boy? You don't sound nearly as happy as I thought you'd be."

"It's just . . . no, it's nothing."

"Oh, come now, you can tell me, Kenta."

"Alright." Kenta sighed. "I didn't tell anyone about the broadcast that's airing right now. I couldn't stand thinking about it myself, and I didn't want anyone else thinking about it either, until they'd have to. Hibiki . . ." Kenta cringed as he spoke. "He's probably watching his future fall apart, even as we speak."

Captain Arcada was silent for a few seconds. "Hibiki," he said, finally. "That's your younger brother, right?"

"Yeah."

" . . . I'm sorry, Kenta. I truly hate disrupting your happiness with reality."

"It's fine, sir," croaked Kenta miserably, hurriedly wiping away a threatening tear that was welling in his right eye. "So, um . . . not to be hasty, but why did you call me?"

"Yes, about that . . ." Arcada laughed nervously. "Again, I'm sorry. I know it's your day off, but it seems we ran into a slight problem with the Silph Investigation. I . . . I don't hear any noise in your background, are you alone over there?"

Kenta, who upon hearing the word "Silph" had involuntarily swallowed a great gulp of air, tried not to choke as he responded with a hammering heart. "Alone. Yes. Yes, I am alone, sir."

"Good." Arcada's tone changed to a much more official manner. "As you might remember, you and Lieutenant Shin were to be the backup team in case Dei and Sosuke ran into any problems." Arcada cleared his throat, then continued. "Their communication equipment went dead about fifteen minutes ago. We haven't heard from them since. We've no reason to suspect that their lives are in jeopardy, neither from previous dealings with Silph, nor the officers' dialogue before the radio failures. It could just be equipment malfunctions."

Equipment malfunctions. Kenta seriously doubted that. Maybe the rest of the army believed Silph Corporation was no threat, but he'd heard otherwise from his colleague. Lieutenant Shin had been a Saffron City resident during the time of the Rocket Takeover Incident nine years ago. His best memory was a recollection of the time a traitorous Silph scientist had sent an Electrode at him, and threatened to blow him to pieces on the spot. Shin was convinced that guys like him were still employed there amongst the normal employees, and over the months he'd worked with Kenta, he had convinced the latter as well.

"We need you," Arcada continued, "basically just to walk up to the front desk and ask for Dei and Sosuke. Simply for standard procedure. If they are indeed experiencing some technical malfunctions, Lieutenant Shin will have replacements ready for them." He paused, then spoke again more gently in his casual tone of voice. "I'm sorry it had to be you two, at this time. We would've sent someone else, but . . . well, as you can imagine, the G.R.I.P. people needed a large chunk of the force present for their own protection. No trainers will take kindly to Kurisawa's announcements. Rumors are buzzing around here that someone actually tried to shoot him not too long ago."

"If I may ask, sir," Kenta pressed, trying to return to the mission he'd just been given, "do you have the time to be waiting for me? It'd take me over an hour to get to Saffron by plane. What if the worst case scenario is realized?" He didn't need to say more. To be honest, he was surprised Arcada hadn't addressed this topic already. In the worst case scenario, officers Dei and Sosuke would have uncovered proof of Silph Corporation attempting to recreate the illustrious Master Ball. However, they would also have been caught by Silph masterminds and held captive before being able to relay the information to the Japanese military police.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: If you're enjoying this story so far, you may like the audio readings I'm doing on pokémon stories of the authors who first inspired me. At the time of this posting, I'm doing NightDragon0's "Dragon Riders: Kaze No Kaeru" on YouTube, complete with music and sound effects.

"We are always prepared for the worst," came Captain Arcada's smooth reply to Kenta's question. "Head to the Ever Grande K-9 Growlithe Unit. A Pidgeot will be stationed there to fly you to Saffron. The navy reports excellent weather; if all goes well, you could be in Saffron in twenty minutes. Any questions, Sergeant?"

That meant it was time to stop asking questions and get moving. Kenta saluted automatically, in spite of the fact that he was crouching on the floor, and his superior couldn't see him anyway. "I have my orders. Sergeant Nyna, moving out." Kenta closed the phone in his hand, thought for a moment, then turned and opened the "Employees Only" door, to be met with Curtis's inquiring face. "Listen," he said quickly, looking him seriously in the eyes, "I've just gotten a very petty mission, which could turn out to be more serious than it's being treated. I need to leave you, but I just want to make sure you remember-"

"I know, I know," said Curtis, without smiling. "If anything happens to you, I need to get rid of the stuff in your closet and under your bed."

"Yeah. And keep your eyes open to everything that's going on around you, okay?" Kenta waved to him before turning and sprinting towards the exit. "Stay well."

"Same to you, Kenta."

"The following pokémon training conditions are to be met by the first of January 2008, starting at midnight," stated the voice of a very plain-sounding woman, as words appeared on Hibiki's television screen in place of Kurisawa at the pedestal. "First condition: no minors may be registered as trainers. Only adults with a completed high school education will be legally recognized as responsible holders of pokémon."

"What?!" roared Hibiki at the set, causing both of his parents to jump beside him. "That's not fair! They can't do that!"

"Second condition: henceforth, all trainers are limited to two pokémon per trainer, except for special circumstances. Exceptional situations will be provided at a later date."

"WHAT?!" Hibiki bellowed again, even louder than before, managing to cause his parents to jump a second time. "TWO pokémon? I can understand their wish to keep trainers from having unlimited pokémon, but they're going way too far!"

"Third condition: Uber pokémon, or pokémon with exceptionally high power levels, are no longer permitted to any trainers except military officers. These pokémon include . . ."

"Is Kenta a military officer?" asked Hibiki's mother from behind him, to his father. He shook his head. "I don't think his rank is high enough. That's probably why they make him keep an Everstone attached to his Shelgon at all times."

"-All current trainers, be advised: all boxed and party pokémon are scheduled to be sent to rehabilitation centers, where they will learn how to live in the wild once again. G.R.I.P. recommends that you start thinking now about the two pokémon you wish to keep. Preteen and teenage trainers may register online to keep their pokémon temporarily detained until-"

"I wonder if Kenta knew about this," Hibiki muttered aloud, thinking so hard that his temples began to throb. "He was never a big pokémon collector. He just sought a pokémon to commemorate every region. His Beedrill represents Kanto, his precious Typhlosion is Johto, Shelgon stands for Hoenn, and he gave me my Munchlax as the Sinnoh pokémon. Okay, think, think . . . he hasn't been keeping the Beedrill with him lately, which is understandable, I guess . . ." Hibiki's eyes widened. "Wait, of course! That leaves him with only Typhlosion and Shelgon. Two pokémon. He _did_ know about this!" Hibiki punched the ground furiously, and his mother and father inched silently away from him. "He knew, and he never told me! That jerk! What kind of a brother keeps these things from his only sibling? He's nothing but a selfish ass!"

"Now Hibiki, calm down," said his father in a reasoning tone, placing his hands up disarmingly. "We don't know that Kenta was told anything in advance. He's still only a foot soldier."

"That's right, Hibiki," added his mother, in the same calming voice. "Why don't we call him? He's still in the Hoenn region, so he wouldn't have seen- where are you going?"

Hibiki, who'd gotten up to leave as she was speaking, looked down angrily at her. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere. Not for another four years, at minimum. There's no need to keep it hidden, Mom, I know you're happy that they've just blocked me from my life's biggest ambition. Smile, why don't you?" With that, he turned away and darted out of the living room and up the stairs. His parents listened to the door slam, and looked miserably at each other.

Compared to being hovered around in the tight clutches of his Beedrill, Spear, Kenta found Pidgeot flight to be much less claustrophobic. Having never ridden on top of a giant bird before, he'd initially expected falling off to be a constant problem. Yet the Pidgeot's training made the flight a pleasant experience rather than a worrisome one. Kenta felt weightless, free, as though he weren't being supported by anything, and any fear of heights was nullified to the thrill of being alone in the skies with the cold wind blowing through his waist-length hair. As his mount dropped altitude over the many building roofs of Saffron City, Kenta made a mental note to travel by air more often, as long as he was on a strong pokémon's back.

Kenta's enormous feathered transport landed gracefully at the end of a one-way street he recognized, blowing dust everywhere as the wings pumped rapidly to secure a smooth landing. He'd barely leaped off when the Pidgeot took flight again, rising about twenty feet up and then bursting off into the clouds like a bullet. He watched the great bird go, never ceasing to be impressed by the awesome might of pokémon, and almost didn't notice that his phone was vibrating. Shaking himself back to reality, he pulled it out of his pocket and raised it to his ear. At the same time, he began to jog down the familiar road towards the looming Silph building in the distance.

"Hello?"

"Kenta? It's Mom."

"Oh, hey." Was it just his phone, or did her voice sound congested? Kenta's stomach flip-flopped, as he considered what she'd probably just heard on the news. "Is . . . is everything all right?" He paused. "Mom, are you crying?"

"No, no . . ." There was a silence, and then his mother's voice returned, stronger than before. "We were watching the match you'd attended when the television suddenly changed to a live broadcast from G.R.I.P., and Hibiki . . . Hibiki, he . . ." She stopped again, and Kenta could hear her swallow over the phone. "Hibiki heard some things that caused him to go out of control. He shouted at me. He hasn't done that in years."

" . . . Oh." Kenta subconsciously slowed his pace to a walk as he tried to think of a response. He'd known for weeks that this phone call would be coming, yet now that it was here, he had nothing. No advice, no words of comfort, nada. He didn't even know whether or not to feign ignorance of the Japanese government's restrictive policies on pokémon use. His only wish now was to somehow comfort Hibiki. He desperately wanted to be done with the errand he'd been sent on, so he could rush home to New Bark Town and put a consoling arm around his brother's shoulders. Hibiki would never get the chance to experience the life of a pokémon trainer now. He might get to have a mock shot at the adventure much later in life, but it wouldn't be the same.

"Kenta," whispered his mother dolefully from the other end of the line, "What should we do? Your father and I aren't nearly as close to Hibiki as you are. Only you can talk to him now. Can you be home soon?"

Kenta looked up; he'd reached a crossroad intersection swarming with cars and trucks. Directly on the other side of the road stood the Silph building itself, its front entrance blocked from view by the constant flow of traffic. The traffic light was changing, and he hurried to make his reply. "Mom, I've been given a small task by one of my bosses. I'm in Saffron City right now, but this shouldn't take long. With any luck, I can be home in a few hours. Hibiki should've calmed down a little by then."

"You may be upset by the news also, Kenta. I just thought I'd warn you."

"Thanks. I'll see you soon. Love you, Mom." As Kenta snapped his phone shut and pocketed it, the cars before him halted and the crosswalk appeared almost magically. Standing on the other side, with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, was an elderly man in police uniform whom Kenta recognized immediately. Sprinting to the other side of the road, he halted and saluted his superior subtly. "Lieutenant Shin. Sergeant Nyna, reporting for duty, sir."

"At ease, Kenta," muttered his companion quietly, and the two officers strode smartly towards a nearby park bench surrounded by a group of pecking Pidgey. They'd barely sat down when the latter reached into his side pocket and pulled out a box of chocolate snack sticks. "Here. Have some pocky."

Kenta reached out and took the box, noticing it was bulging at the sides even before he felt the hefty extra weight tug his arm down. He pulled open the side tab and glanced a peek inside, then stared incredulously at his partner.

"Shin, what is this? Are either of us supposed to have one of these?"

"Yes," said Shin matter-of-factly, not looking Kenta in the eye. Kenta shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. Within the pocky box was a S.W.A.T. lockpick gadget. It was about the size of a large Swiss army knife, and among the devices was a razor-sharp combat blade, a wire cutter, a lockpick, a lighter, and a laser. Kenta shook the military appliance into his pocket and discarded the empty pocky box, knowing full-well that he could be charged for treason if caught in possession with the lockpick by another officer. He looked at Shin, bemused, and raised his eyebrow. "Is that all you have for me, then? No smoke or stinger grenades? I've heard those are useful."

"We can't be too careful, Kenta," said Shin in low voice, looking at the main front doors of Silph out of the corner of his eye. "D'you think it's an accident that our communicators would die in the very building where the Master Ball is being made? I'm not going in there with reliance on any electrical devices, and my partner will do well to follow my example."

 _Well, there goes my taser_ , thought Kenta. _Any combat situations will require deadly force, now. We sure have a lot of power._

"Shin," he said suddenly, as a thought came into his head. "Before we go in, I've got a hypothetical question."

His companion smiled. "I like that sort of thinking. Ask away."

Kenta clasped his hands together. This thought had been on his mind ever since he'd first been told about G.R.I.P.'s intent to seize thousands of trainers' pokémon. He had never voiced his opinion, out of fear that he would sound disloyal to the military. The thought hadn't gone away since then, but buzzed in the back of his mind like white noise as he'd sought constantly to preoccupy himself. Now, he needed to get it out. And there was nobody, nobody he trusted more in the militia than Shin.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: If you're enjoying this story so far, you may like the audio readings I'm doing on pokémon stories of the authors who first inspired me. At the time of this posting, I'm doing NightDragon0's "Dragon Riders: Kaze No Kaeru" on YouTube, complete with music and sound effects.

...

"Let's say that Silph has managed to perfect a new Master Ball," he started, looking down at his hands intently. "We'd have to take it away from them, because it falls outside the pokémon registration system. Otherwise, they and whoever else has a Master Ball would be able to capture as many pokémon out there as they wish, and we wouldn't be able to do jack about it."

"Correct. The Master Ball is too dangerous to risk falling into the wrong hands."

"Yeah, but here's my question." Kenta gripped his fingers together harder, bracing himself as he let the words tumble out of his mouth. "Who can we trust to be the 'right hands'?" He looked up and stared Shin directly in the eyes. "In less than two months, we'll take possession of almost every trainer's hard-earned pokémon. Can you imagine how many Tyranitar, Slaking, Milotic, and Dragonite we're going to have? Those are just examples. And now, on top of that, we've got the Master Ball, which is guaranteed to catch even legendary pokémon in one go."

Shin's face was impassive. "Keep your voice down," he mouthed, and leaned closer until he was only two inches away from Kenta's face. "You can't let anyone know you're thinking such things," he whispered. "Nobody, do you hear me? Now, listen closely. I share your sentiments. I'm certain many people do. But we can't just go spitting such words like you're doing right now, especially at this time. It will have to be done in the politically correct manner, at a later date. That's how the system works."

"There's a total power imbalance between the government and the people," Kenta whispered back, furiously. "But we can halt it somewhat, possibly this very hour. If the Master Ball does exist right now, its makers are the only humans in the world who know its perfect design. If we get the opportunity, I say we destroy it."

"It's no use, Kenta," replied Shin in a sad tone. "You can't keep forbidden knowledge locked away forever. Remember Hiroshima and Nagasaki. We were bound to have atomic weapons someday, and there's no turning back now. The Master Ball is no different." He stood up from the bench and looked down at Kenta. "Someone will harness its power. We just have to do what we're told as soldiers, and hope that our government superiors are indeed 'the right hands' for holding such a weapon."

Kenta smiled bitterly. "That's ironic, coming from the guy who just gave me the key to the city in a pocky box."

"It's a funny old world we live in. Time to move in, Sergeant." Shin motioned him to rise, and Kenta unhappily did as he was bidden, knowing the conversation was over. The two police officers waded through a sudden crowd of pedestrians, and when the group was past, the glass double-doors of Silph Co. loomed before them. Ignoring a flamboyantly-colorful "closed" sign, they pushed the doors open and were met with a small gust of warm air.

The first floor of Silph's interior was vastly occupied by a great water fountain in the center of the floor. In the room's corners, and other various places, potted flowers and trees stood sentinel. A constant breeze swept through the room, and Kenta suspected that it was because of air pressures coming from temperature differences between the cold fountain water and the heating system. _It sure has a relaxing effect_ , he thought, as he and Shin approached the receptionist's desk. _It makes you feel serene, and lowers your guard. Most visitors probably don't notice, for instance, the glare of camera lenses within the tree leaves. We'd best be on our toes._

The receptionist received Kenta and Shin with an artificial-looking smile, sitting rigidly in her chair and observing them with a bowed head and upturned eyes. "Can I help you, officers?" she asked in a brisk tone. Shin took the lead, reaching his left hand into his uniform and pulling out his badge. "Lieutenant Daisuke Shin," he spoke in an equally business-like tone. "We received a notice that two other officers are already here, with malfunctioning equipment. Could you please call them down to the lobby for some quick repairs?"

"Ah, that's unfortunate," said the receptionist airily, ducking down and reaching under her desk. "Thankfully, your friends won't need to be bothered to come down. I've got your stuff right here." Kenta's heart skipped a beat as she held up two military ear-microphones, wired to their battery cases. There was no reason, none in the world, why she should have them under normal circumstances. Even as he and Shin exchanged a horrified glance over the reality of the situation, the secretary held out her hand.

"I'll have yours, now. It's off for the moment, but it'll work again as soon as I've given my superiors notice. Please don't waste time, now. The military will get suspicious if they decide your radio has gone dead, too. At any time, we can blow this building sky-high with the number of Electrode we're holding in here. Think of the hostages. Do the right thing."

Kenta knew better than to assume this woman was bluffing. Heart pounding, sweating from every part of his body, he handed his communicator to Shin, who in turn handed both to the receptionist. "Good," she muttered, placing them onto the counter, still within reach of the officers. "Now disarm. I'll take those utility belts you've got." Again, after waiting for Shin's confirming nod, Kenta did as he was told, and handed over his pepper spray, handcuffs, his taser, and worst of all, his gun. The receptionist took the weapons more hurriedly than before, and tossed them on the floor behind her, out of everyone's reach. She turned her eyes on Shin.

"If you want to keep a hundred lives safe, you will do exactly as I say. Your communicator will be back on in a moment. Tell whoever's on the other end whatever it takes to keep them believing that everything's going smoothly. Don't try anything stupid. Our technology is better than yours. We just might be able to read minds."

Kenta stiffened as the receptionist turned to him. "As for you . . . go to the third floor. Take the elevator. Someone will there to escort you to your destination. I expect your cooperation, too. No releasing your pokémon at any time, is that crystal-clear? The consequences will be the same. Go."

There was nothing to be done. Kenta felt his legs move automatically, as if he weren't controlling them, and he headed for the elevator numbly. Desperate to keep a level head, he forced himself to analyze his foe in his mind. One thing was for sure: Shin's suspicions about Silph were dead-on. Not only had these people anticipated their coming, but they had defeated Shin and himself as soon as they'd come in through the door. Now they were on their own, without anyone from the force to back them up. They couldn't even use their pokémon. Kenta knew better than anyone that pokémon training was different as a police officer. If anyone's fingers but the original trainer's touched the pokeball, the pokémon inside would know automatically to go berserk on the stranger. He'd taught this "first priority" training to Spear the Beedrill, his Shelgon, Bolt, and Bakuphoon, his ever-reliable Typhlosion. What impressed and depressed Kenta was the fact that the Silph receptionist had known not to ask for his pokémon. In a way, pokeballs were like grenades. If they weren't thrown after activation (his own touch), they would explode open by themselves. His pokémon knew to assume the worst. His enemy knew how to avoid the worst.

As the elevator doors opened to receive him, Kenta looked back for a moment at Shin. The receptionist was holding the communicator speaker to his mouth, and both were standing stock-still. However, as the elevator doors closed, Kenta heard Shin begin to speak in the distance. "Sir," he said in a casual reporting tone, "This is Lieutenant Dai-" Before Kenta could hear any more, the doors shut firmly in his face. He reached out and pressed the "3" on the button pad, and it lit up in recognition. The elevator began to vibrate, and Kenta felt his weight shift as it rose steadily to higher floors. Once the elevator had confirmed he was on floor three, Kenta braced himself as the double-doors slowly parted before him.

...

Midnight, January 1, 2008, proved to be one of the darkest nights Japan had ever experienced. All over the country, television sets sat with a blank screen, showing nothing but the miserable reflections of whoever happened to be sitting nearby. Nobody's lights were on. Nobody's house made a sound. From the humble town of Pallet to the mighty Pokémon League HQ, pokémon fans of all ages sat in the shadows of their homes, brooding sulkily. While some were quiet, others were vocal, though their complaints were unheard by anyone other than themselves.

"Training will never be the same again," muttered a seventeen-year-old boy, lying on his couch and watching a feeble attempt at fireworks through the window outside his house. He looked down at the things he was holding; in his left hand was a red cap he'd worn for four years straight during his pokémon training days. In his right hand was a bottle of sake, which he'd attained illegally by having a vagrant buy it for him. He raised the bottle to his lips and took a great drink, stopping only when he had to gasp for breath. As he belched, his companion in the next chair over looked at him with a mixture of disgust and concern.

"Don't you think you've had enough, Takeshi?"

"Blow me. If I die from alcohol poisoning, I'll be the happiest bastard of this year." Takeshi glared at the colorful fireworks bursting merrily in the sky just outside his window. "Pfft. Happy New Year, my ass."

Most households in the active pokémon regions of Japan were more or less the same way. New Bark Town was no exception. While Mr. and Mrs. Nyna halfheartedly celebrated the coming of a new year with two drinks in the kitchen, Hibiki remained alone in his room, reflecting on the events that had ended 2007 so bitterly.

Kenta was gone, reported missing a little under two months back and presumed dead after the Silph Corporation incident. An officer from the New Bark police division had stopped by at their house several hours after the event, looking somber and holding his hat in his hands. His mother hadn't stopped crying for hours after the news, and his father had gone into a daze. Hibiki himself remained hopeful for a while that Kenta would miraculously pull out of this mess as he'd done a few years in the past.

One particular incident of Kenta's trainer day heroics stood out in his mind. Back when he was sixteen, Kenta had rescued Johto's legendary god of electric-type pokémon from the nefarious Team Rocket, with the help of friends. During that time, he'd risked being crushed and eaten by the foe's Steelix on several occasions, and had nearly been electrified to death by the very creature he was trying to save. Somehow, Kenta, Marina, and Juni'chi had all pulled through, but it could have turned out much worse.

Unfortunately, Kenta's luck hadn't held out with Silph Corporation. The news revealed that they had indeed been holding blueprints for the Master Ball's design, and though the government had seized the information and successfully arrested all known perpetrators involved, Kenta hadn't made it. The criminals had put up a tough fight to keep their precious information, all in vain, but not without consequences. Hibiki had gotten to see Kenta's coffin at a quiet memorial service, empty, but still symbolically woeful. All that remained of his brother's memory was his room, and the Munchlax he'd captured in the Sinnoh region and given to Hibiki as a present.

Less importantly, but still devastating to a certain degree, remained the fact that disheartened so many other trainers on this gloomy night. Hibiki checked the clock, 12:08. It had been eight minutes since pokémon trainers all over Japan had lost every pokémon they'd ever captured, save two. Hibiki felt sorry the trainers who'd suffered under G.R.I.P.'s new decrees, but he couldn't fully pity them. He hadn't become a pokémon trainer thanks to his mother, so he hadn't lost anything. He'd even gotten to keep Kenta's Munchlax, under the condition that his father register as a pokémon trainer and re-adopt the plump little creature under his own name. Munchlax also had to wear an Everstone on his collar at all times, and he'd often tried vainly to eat it. Hibiki had grown closer to the pudgy little pokémon over the last month, because Munchlax was still originally Kenta's pokémon after all.


	5. Chapter 5

One month passed, then two, and then three- and slowly the weather outside Hibiki's window turned from slush to rain. Yet still he spent long periods of time in his room in a depressed slump. To cheer him up, Kenta's old companions, Marina and Juni'chi, called the house sometimes, but Hibiki wanted nothing to do with them. Marina always sounded close to tears over the phone when Hibiki talked to her, and he suspected that she'd had a major crush on Kenta back during the good ol' days. She was depressing to listen to. Juni'chi, on the other hand, frightened him somewhat. Although he thought they looked nothing alike, Juni'chi seemed to almost consider Hibiki a smaller version of Kenta, and treated him as such. He'd ask Hibiki about Kenta's team, and compare it to his own, then offer to battle Hibiki when they were both old enough. At that time, Hibiki would use Kenta's pokémon, and the match would be two-on-two, and blah, blah, blah . . . the guy was just plain ignorant. Hibiki couldn't hate him though, because in spite of his strange requests, Hibiki got the feeling that this was Juni'chi's way of coping with Kenta's absence.

Something clicked to Hibiki's left, but when he glanced over to the other side of the room, all that he saw was the blackness of night outside through a raindrop-dotted window. He shifted his weight on the bed to a more comfortable position, so that he was fully facing the window, and stared dully as his own image reflected partially in the glare of his room's lamplight.

 _My reflection. Lookin' good . . . yeah, right._

At that moment, Hibiki's reflection in the window vibrated wildly, and his walls came to life with a humming din. He sat up straight in bed, immediately awake and heart hammering, and his reflection also shifted to reveal something large and blue moving outside of his window. Out of the blackness, a human fist suddenly appeared and knocked thrice on the window. "Hibiki!" came a muffled voice from outside, veiled by the noise of the vibrating walls and the rattling window. "Hibiki!"

Nothing could have prepared Hibiki for this. He shrieked in terror at the ghastly apparition hovering from just outside his window, and fled the room still shrilling at the top of his lungs. Tearing down the stairs, skipping every other step, Hibiki dove into the kitchen and hid under the table, pulling down the tablecloth to hide himself. Dishes left out on the tabletop came crashing down to the floor and broke all around him, but he could care less at the moment. Shaking from head to toe, he lay curled on the floor, hardly daring to breathe. Looking around the kitchen floor for something to use as a weapon, possibly a long shard of broken glass or a dish fragment, his eyes stopped on a familiar-looking black backside. Munchlax was standing in front of the open refrigerator, frozen in guilt, one paw on the door, and the other holding a plate of leftover cake. Hibiki's brain clicked.

"Munchlax!"

He grabbed hold of his pokémon's paw and hauled the bamboozled Munchlax away from the refrigerator and into the living room to where his mother and father had been drinking sake. "Mom! Dad!" he shouted insistently, shaking both of their still, toppled-over forms on the couch. Neither responded, and when Hibiki stood and listened for a moment, he could hear both of them snoring gently. They were out cold from drinking. He was on his own.

With some hesitation, Hibiki made his way slowly towards the stairs again, stopping short when he heard a loud bump issue from his room just overhead. He turned to Munchlax, who was chomping down his stolen cake, and looking very content in spite of the ruckus going on all around him. Hibiki stared at his gluttonous pokémon, almost impressed at its total lack of fear. "You are incredible. How can you be so relaxed at a time like this?"

Munchlax finished the last of the chocolate cake, licked his fingers, and burped in reply to Hibiki's question. Hibiki sighed. "It's your nature, I guess. Well, I'm not feeling so calm at the moment, so how about you take the lead? Wait, hang on." Hibiki dashed to the kitchen, and returned a moment later holding a meat cleaver clasped in both hands. He and Munchlax inched up the stairs quietly, and Hibiki leaned close to his companion's ear and cupped his hand. "Okay, here's the plan," he whispered, heart still pounding uncontrollably in his chest. "If it's a ghost, you cast Shadow Ball on it. I'll go find any of Kenta's spare pokeballs and try to capture it, so we don't cause any more damage to the house than we have already." He narrowed his eyes. "On the other hand . . . if it's a burglar, we'll attack together. Let's show this guy not to underestimate the Nyna name, just because Kenta's gone. Are you ready?"

They'd reached the top of the stairs. Hibiki summoned up as much courage as he could muster, and peeked around the corner. He nearly fainted in shock. Standing in the hallway, arms crossed and smiling confidently, was a young man with shoulder-length black hair, wearing a brown traveler's cloak that covered the rest of his body. "A question then, Hibiki," he said in a soft voice, and Hibiki's heart gave yet another jolt as he recognized the voice. "What if I'm neither a ghost nor a burglar? Did you have a plan for that?"

Hibiki stared at him. But it was impossible. How could it be? ". . . Kenta?"

"Miss me?" His brother shed the cloak, and Hibiki noticed he was wearing peculiar clothing underneath. Normally, when Kenta wasn't in his officer uniform, he wore long shorts along with his favorite jacket with the front-pockets. Now, however, he wore a body-hugging, half-sleeved maroon shirt and dark-blue baggy pants with black stripes. In other words, the exact clothing of Brendan Birch, the greatest of the Pokemon League champions. Hibiki wouldn't have noticed the significance otherwise, but Brendan's clothing choice had become a recent trend, in spite of the cold weather. After all, he was an idolized trainer to many people aside from just Kenta.

"Kenta, you . . . you . . ." Hibiki couldn't bring himself to speak. Kenta walked up to him and wrapped his arms around the younger brother tightly. "If you're not going to give me a hug," he said with a smile, "I guess I'll just have be the one to do it."

Hibiki returned the embrace, finally getting his senses back, and Munchlax joined them, making the squeeze suddenly and uncomfortably tight. The three of them let go, and Kenta stood back and put a finger to his lips. "Mom and Dad aren't awake, are they?" he whispered. "If they are, I need to hide in your room until they're asleep."

"Huh? Well . . ." Hibiki checked briefly down the stairs, but heard nothing going on. "They're out for a while. Too much sake. Kenta, it's _you_!" he shouted in a burst of emotion, finally able to get out what he'd been meaning to. "Where have you been? We thought you were dead! Do you have any idea-"

"Come here." Kenta stopped Hibiki and motioned him into his room. "Sorry, but you can let it out in a second. I need your sheets first."

Stunned, Hibiki followed Kenta into his room, then nearly passed out for the second time that night. In the middle of the floor, taking up most of the room, lay an enormous blue dragon with red wings, sopping wet and breathing heavily. Hibiki stood and stared down at it, unable to even move until Kenta threw a corner of his blanket at him. "Here, take that and cover him. We need to get him warm," said Kenta urgently. "It wasn't snowing out, thank goodness, but it was still pretty damn cold."

Hibiki did what he was told, and helped Kenta wrap the blanket around the dragon until only the head was showing. Cautiously steering clear of the reptilian beast's mouth, Hibiki inched to his bed and hauled himself onto it. Opening his own mouth wide, he closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment on simply breathing to calm himself down. Feeling the weight shift on his bed, he turned and looked up at Kenta, who was seated beside him. His brother looked down at him, his smile back on his face. "Okay, now you can say whatever you wanted to."

"I . . . well . . ." Hibiki pointed down at the dragon on the floor, which was watching the two of them while Munchlax stood nearby staring at it. "Kenta, what is _that_?"

"That?" Kenta followed Hibiki's finger to the dragon's head. "That's Bolt, of course!" he said perkily, reaching into the pocket of his brown traveler's cloak. "He evolved into a Salamence." Pulling out a reddish-pink cube, Kenta tossed it to Bolt, who caught it in his mouth. Hibiki gaped at the creature in wonder. "That's Bolt?! But . . . but he looks completely different!"

"I was shocked at first, too," Kenta laughed. He stopped laughing abruptly as Munchlax stood before him and held out a demanding paw. "Oh. Hi." Kenta held up his hands and shrugged. "Sorry, Munchlax. That was the last one."

Munchlax looked blown away. A moment later, he clenched his fists and began turning red, a growl rippling up in his throat. Hibiki jerked backwards in fearful realization of what was going on, and turned to Kenta in desperation. "Aaaah! Kenta, watch it, he's going to use Selfdestruct!"

"Wha-?!" Kenta went rigid, then hurriedly reached into his pocket and yanked out another pink cube. "Here! Here! I lied, look, I've got another one!"

Immediately, Munchlax's enraged expression subsided into glee, and he snatched the block of food from Kenta's hand and chewed happily on it. The two brothers let out a sigh of relief, and it was Kenta's turn to gape at Hibiki's pokémon in astonishment. "He knows Selfdestruct?! When in the hell did he learn to do that?"

Hibiki shook his head. "I dunno. He just did, during one of his temper tantrums. He gets furious if we forget to feed him for prolonged periods of time, or if he's denied a treat he really wants. You caught a real winner that time, Kenta."

"Heh." Kenta smiled and closed his eyes. "Go figure. Well, he'll have his uses yet." His expression changed dramatically, and suddenly he was completely serious. Hibiki had never seen him so grim before, and he looked away from Kenta so he wouldn't have to match him eye-to-eye. "So . . . wh-what's up, then, bro?"

"Well . . . I can't stay here long, that's what's up." Kenta got up from the bed and turned to look at Hibiki's window, which was still open and letting in cold air. "There's a reason I flew in through your room, rather than just using the front door, Hibiki." He held up his brown traveler's cloak, and pointed to the Brendan Birch garb he was wearing. "There's a reason I'm wearing this white beanie and such, rather than my usual clothing." Looking warily at the door, Kenta reached into his left pocket and slowly withdrew a purple-colored pokeball with an "M" imprinted on it. "And there's a reason . . . that I've got one of these on me. Do you recognize what this is, Hibiki?"

Hibiki shook his head, looking curiously at the ball. It didn't appear any different than the other capture balls he'd seen before, at least not in size or shape. For all he knew, it could've been a creatively-decorated Great Ball. However, Kenta held the ball with utmost caution, and regarded it with a keen eye. "This is called the Master Ball," he said quietly. "It holds the absolute power of capturing any pokémon in the world without fail. You could consider it a weapon as strong as the strongest pokémon known to man."

Kenta's eyes were intense, and Hibiki could have sworn they were almost glowing. He felt afraid once more. Why was Kenta showing him this?

"Bro?" Hibiki swung his legs under the bed nervously, still looking upon the Master Ball. "That's cool, but . . . how come you have it?"

"Because nobody else other than you knows I have it," Kenta responded, tucking the elite pokeball back in his pocket. "Otherwise, it would be taken from me." His smile returned, and he ruffled Hibiki's hair. "But I know I can trust you. That's what I'm doing from now on- only going to people I can trust."

The brothers looked at each other, and a lasting silence ensued. After several long seconds, Kenta suddenly grabbed Hibiki's shoulders. "Brother," he said meaningfully, once again matching eyes with him. "I want you to come with me."


	6. Chapter 6

Hibiki stared at him. "Come . . . with you? Where?"

"Out of New Bark Town. To change the world back to the way it was." Kenta let go of Hibiki's shoulders, and instead knelt down by Bolt's head. Pulling Hibiki's quilt over the dragon's scaly forehead, he began carefully rubbing the Salamence dry. "Like I said," he muttered, "I can't stay long. If Mom and Dad get involved, it's all over. You'll understand later, but for now, just take my word on it."

"So you have to go. And you want to take me with you," Hibiki repeated. "And it's okay if I get involved, but not Mom and Dad."

"I need you," said Kenta, looking earnestly at Hibiki, "for many different reasons. Mostly for your companionship. It gets lonely as an anonymous nobody."

The Salamence looked at Kenta indignantly, and he grinned apologetically. "Sorry, Bolt, you've been a great friend." He looked around. "Hey, uh . . . got any paper and pens?"

"In the desk. More importantly . . ." Hibiki spread his arms to indicate just how lost he still was. "What do you mean, an anonymous nobody? What's with all the secrecy, how come you're dressed up, why can't you just stay here and let us be a family again?"

"I can't answer that," replied Kenta, scribbling something down on the paper, "unless I get your cooperation. If you want to stay here, I understand. After all, I did sort of jump this on you out of nowhere. Please, just don't tell anybody about my disguise, and especially not about the Master Ball. I don't know when I'll see you again."

As Kenta pulled on his traveler's cloak, alarm jolted through Hibiki's body. Kenta really meant it. He was going to disappear again.

"Wait!"

Kenta looked at him.

"What if . . . I do come with you? How would I explain it to our parents? 'Dear Mom and Dad, sorry for running away'?"

To this, Kenta smiled his usual cheerful grin. "Running away?" He held up the paper he'd just been scribbling on.

 _Dear Mr. and Mrs. Nyna:_

 _I have kidnapped your only other son. The elder Nyna brother put MY son in jail a while back. Now that he's out of the way, I demand three million yen to bail my boy out again. Simply put, it's my son for yours. You have a month from today to get the cash. On the first of May, meet me by the Oran Berry Tree in the forest east of Cherrygrove. Be smart, and keep all of this to yourselves._

 _-Anonymous_

Hibiki stared incredulously at Kenta. "Three million yen?" he whispered loudly. "Don't you think that's a bit much to put on our parents?"

"The military police will cover it," said Kenta, pulling the blanket off of Bolt's immense body and tossing it back onto the bed. "That money was supposed to go towards my college funding. Now that I'm dead, Mom and Dad have to use it some other way. Hopefully, we'll be done with what we're doing before then."

"And what exactly are we doing?" asked Hibiki. Kenta chuckled. "You're in, then? The first thing we're doing is getting you to the place where you're being held hostage." He held his arm out the window and into the night. "Going this way? Or would you rather take the stairs?"

...

It was about one o'clock in the morning when Kenta and Hibiki arrived in Violet City. There had been no time for Hibiki to ask Kenta questions, because he'd been too busy hanging on for dear life as Bolt flew them through howling winds and low-visibility fog conditions. When they finally landed in the still and silent town, Hibiki was exhausted from the adrenaline trip of flying, coupled with the fact that it was hours past his bedtime. He watched through blurry eyes as Kenta reached into his right pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a Swiss Army knife. Looking up, his mind barely registered that they were standing right in front of the door to an old Summer school called "Earl's Pokémon Academy." Jiggling the knife inside the lock, Kenta clicked it open, then pulled the door aside. Hibiki looked down the dark hall within.

"Isn't this breaking and entering?"

"Not if you're here against your will, and I'm not a living person." Kenta stood aside. "Besides, we haven't broken anything. In you go. You too, Munchlax, Bolt."

The two humans and pokémon made their way inside, and Hibiki took a moment to marvel at Bolt's strength. Munchlax was a heavy little bugger. How the Salamence could lift him, and two other people at the same time, was beyond Hibiki. Then again, he'd had more surprises thrown at him this one night than he could handle. He couldn't even prioritize the important ones over the unimportant now. A wave of exhaustion swept over him. Now wasn't a time for thinking. He needed sleep.

...

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead."

" . . . Wugh?"

Kenta watched as his younger brother slowly opened his eyes from sleep. He himself was sitting in a comfortable recliner, while Hibiki lay on the floor, using his traveler's cloak as a blanket and Munchlax's belly for a pillow. Hibiki glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, then looked at him. "Where . . . are we?"

"Good morning to you, too." Kenta waved his hand at their surroundings. Nearly the entire room consisted of nothing but rows of bookshelves, and a few study desks at the center. "This is the Academy library," he said breezily. "It's a little dark and cold, but you could forget about that in an instant if you find a good book to read." He glanced down at the pages of his own book: _Physics and the Pokeball: Secrets Defogged_. "But that's the catch- the book has to be good. I don't understand the half of this jibber-jabber."

Kenta noticed Hibiki scrunch his eyes as he tried to read the book's title. "You're trying to find out how pokeballs work?" he asked. "What for?"

"Knowledge is power." Kenta closed the book and tossed it aside, his brain fried from reading. "But it's no good if you don't get the material. I was hoping something with a tenth grade reading level would be enough to get me through this." He grinned apologetically at Hibiki, but the latter only returned him a cold look to show he was not amused. Kenta sighed unhappily. "Look, Hibiki," he murmured, "I know I've been vague with you up until now, and I'm grateful that you've followed me anyway. If you want an explanation, you've earned one in full."

Hibiki smiled, at last. "Yes, please," he whispered politely. "I'd like that."

...

It took all most of the morning for Kenta to reveal everything to Hibiki. When he'd finished saying all that he could, and answering every last one of his younger brother's questions, he repeated his previous request with an outstretched hand.

"Now you know everything. Will you still help me?"

Hibiki took his older brother's hand and shook it firmly, reinforcing his resolve with a meaningful smile. "I'm with you to the death, Kenta. To the very end."

Kenta laughed nervously. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that. Finish up your ramen noodles, and we'll get going."

...

From Violet City, Kenta and Hibiki flew southbound for Azalea Town on Bolt's back. Kenta sat at the forefront, holding onto the Salamence's neck and watching the treetops below for signs of their destination. Munchlax clung to Kenta's back, pointing down eagerly every so often at the berry tree sites and whining in disappointment when they sped right past. Behind them, Hibiki took inventory of all the items in their sack, somewhat reluctantly. He didn't want to spend a second longer on it than he had to, rooting through his backpack when he could be holding onto someone so as not to fall.

"Kenta, we already went through this stuff back at the summer academy. We know what's in here."

"One rule of the military, Hibiki: always double-check your stock. The tiniest missing thing could put the whole mission in jeopardy."

"All right, all right. I've got your old uniform here, including the hat with the wig, the brown cloak, a fresh pokeblock dispenser, three Revive potions, a small variation of berries, all 40,000 yen of my allowance savings . . . why'd we bring all of it at once?" he asked, looking up. "Should we really be putting all of our eggs in one basket?"

"It's the only way the basket can be effective, my man," replied Kenta merrily. "Uh, I know that didn't make much sense, but screw it, you know what I mea-"

"Uh-oh!" Hibiki pulled frantically on Kenta's sleeve, and he turned automatically to behold an unplanned, and certainly unwelcome sight. Behind them, flying about fifty feet away, hovered a uniformed officer on a Pidgeot, holding a megaphone in his hand. "Shoot," muttered Kenta, "bogey at five o' clock."

"He's gaining on us!" cried Hibiki, already panicking. "What should we do? What should we do?"

"Get that cloak on!" Kenta responded hastily, pointing to Hibiki's backpack. "I'll do the talking. You be ready for anything."

"Attention, trainers on the Salamence!" came the officer's voice in an artificially-amplified voice from behind them. "This is the Johto Sky Patrol. You are in possession of an illegal uber pokémon, as defined by the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokémon. Land immediately at the nearest forest clearing for questioning. This is an order!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," whimpered Hibiki, fumbling with the cloak and finally wrapping it around himself, "we're so busted! We're going to be arrested already, before we even get to do anything!"

"Pull yourself together, Hibiki!" barked Kenta sternly. Hibiki immediately fell silent, and Kenta pointed down at a nearby clearing of trees, indicating Bolt to land. "Don't worry," he said more gently over his shoulder. "It takes a cop to know a cop. I can handle this. Deal with him firmly, and don't show fear for a second. Keep your face covered. We're going down."

Once both parties had landed and dismounted from their respective pokémon, the officer approached Kenta and Hibiki with a hint of a smirk on his face. "Smart boys," he said briskly, "you knew you wouldn't be able to outrace a Pidgeot." He held out his badge. "Now! Which one of you fellas wants to tell me how you came by a Salamence at such a time as this?"

"He's mine, sir," said Kenta, standing stiffly at attention.

The policeman sneered at him. "Not for long, he isn't. Don't you watch the news, kid? Aren't you aware that you're breaking the law by being in possession of an overpowered pokémon? Even lower law enforcement officers aren't permitted those."

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir," said Kenta loudly, adopting the same official tone as the officer. "Bolt is my friend, not my possession. At any time he wants, he can leave me and return to the wild."

The cop's eyes narrowed. "Now look here, smartass," he said more dangerously, pointing a finger at Kenta's face, "you're in enough trouble already. Cheeking the police doesn't help your cause. Let's see some identification before you go and make any more wrong moves."

Hibiki glanced at Kenta fearfully, but Kenta's expression didn't change. He only shrugged. "I'm sorry, sir. I don't have it on me."

The officer was quiet for a moment, then turned on Hibiki. "And you?"

"N-no."

"I see." The cop removed his cap, scratched his balding head. He replaced it, wearing a mock-pitying expression on his face. "Well, I'm sorry to say this, but I'm going to have to ask you two boys to come with me to the nearest police station. But before you do that, please hand over the Salamence's pokeball."

At this, a smile appeared on Kenta's face for the first time since landing. "Again, I'm sorry sir. I don't have it on me."

The other man's eyes narrowed. "Where is it, then?"

"It's actually in a lot of places, by now," Kenta responded, picking up his foot and examining underneath. "There's probably even a little bit still stuck in the sole of my shoe. What do you think? Can you still see a piece? Something keeps sticking my foot whenever I walk, and it's bugging the hell out of me."

The officer's expression changed to one of mild bewilderment, and to Hibiki, it seemed like his first show of weakness. "You smashed it?" he asked disbelievingly. Kenta nodded, and his jolly grin was suddenly gone as swiftly as it had come.

"Yes. And would you like to know why?" he asked, subtle danger now echoing in his own tone. Hibiki took an involuntary step backwards; he had never seen Kenta this way before. There was anger, and then there was ferocity. Kenta balanced between the two with chilling composure, and it made Hibiki shudder involuntarily.

"Because I don't like it when my friends are stolen away from me. It's one thing if they leave on their own will; I can accept that. But when they're kidnapped, and I have no say in the matter . . ." Kenta's eyes flashed, and Hibiki saw the cop reaching for his utility belt. "Well, I tend to stop thinking about the consequences of my actions. Emotion trumps reason. What is law crumbles to what is right."

"No more threatening language out of you, or I shoot," the officer warned, holding his taser out at Kenta. Eying the weapon, Kenta let out a short laugh and turned so that he faced the cop sideways. "Ha. Big man, with his electric gun. Getting back to my little rant . . ." He pointed to the pokeballs on the policeman's belt. "I know how the tagging system works. You'd have taken away all my pokémon if I hadn't beaten you to the punch. No genie without a lamp, you know what I'm saying?"

Hibiki heard a crackling noise and saw Kenta twitch; the officer had activated the taser. However, instead of falling to the ground in a fit of spasms, Kenta remained on his feet, a death-glare burning on his face. "But you did manage to take the friend I'd known the longest," he hissed, clenching his hands into fists. "And God only knows where he is now, and what you people are doing to him. Give him back."

The officer activated the taser again. Kenta didn't even blink this time. "Give Bakuphoon back to me. He's not your tool for control. He's my valuable friend!"

 _Kenta really wants his Typhlosion back,_ thought Hibiki, watching unblinkingly as the two officers stood off. _I was never a trainer, so I can't fully appreciate the bond they must've had. Still, Kenta's serious about this. He's like a mad mother Ursaring right now, who's lost her cub._

"Why isn't this working-?" mumbled the officer, staring down at his taser and shaking it. Replacing the stun gun in its holster, he drew out a pokeball instead, looking at Kenta with the face of a cornered animal. "I don't know what you are," he snarled, "but electricity-immune or not, you've broken several laws and resisted arrest." The patrolman tossed his pokeball onto the ground, and in a burst of light, an enormous brown creature with layered hide like knight's armor appeared. Hibiki recognized it immediately as a Tyranitar, and he swallowed painfully as it let out a deafening roar. "The Dragonite of the Johto Region," Kenta had called it. At minimum, the monster was at level fifty-five, and would've learned some of its most devastating moves by now. The average pokémon trainer would've been considered tough with level thirty pokémon on his team, but this was simply overkill.

Kenta observed his foe's pokémon coolly as dirt rose out of the ground around the Tyranitar and burst apart into sand-sized pieces. "Special ability: Sand Stream," he muttered. "So then, these are the kinds of pokémon they're letting you guys have today. You get your own climate and everything."

"This is your last chance," the officer demanded over the rushing din of the sandstorm. "Stand down, or I'll order him to attack!"

Hibiki looked from Tyranitar to Kenta, and stared in surprise at his expression. It had changed again; now Kenta had a glint in his eye and a determined grin on his face. There was something nostalgic about the expression, and as he watched, Hibiki suddenly had a burst of vision from the past, as if he were looking at the sixteen-year-old version of Kenta again.

"Now that's more like it," beamed Kenta, taking a few steps back. "It sounds like you've just challenged me to a pokémon battle. I accept . . . and Bolt is my choice for this match!"

The cop pointed furiously at Kenta's Salamence, as the enormous dragon pokémon flapped heavily forward and confronted Tyranitar. "Resisting arrest, you leave me no choice. Tyranitar, Rock Slide!"

"Bolt, Protect! Evade the stones!"

Never in his life had Hibiki seen a high-level pokémon match, at least not live. It reminded him of the old Godzilla cartoons he used to watch on television as a little kid. The Tyranitar's enormous tail buried itself in the ground and lifted out rocks the size of watermelons as if they weighed nothing. Yet in spite of his size, Bolt wheeled skillfully around each and every stone as it was catapulted at him.

"Alright, time for the counterattack!" barked Kenta, pointing at the Tyranitar's neck. "Strike below the chin! Aerial Ace!"

Immediately, Bolt disintegrated into thin air and reappeared directly in front of Tyranitar, speeding into him with the force of a small truck. The foe pokémon wheeled, but knelt and regained its balance a moment later. Kenta gritted his teeth in disappointment. "Darn it! We still missed."

"Is that the best you've got?" roared the officer from the other side of the battlefield. In contrast to his stiff and formal attitude a moment ago, being in the heat of the fight was drawing out all of his human emotions that came with instinct. He, too, was alive with battle fury. "I see you've taught your Salamence a couple of TM moves. You're not the only one, though. Tyranitar, slow them down with Thunder Wave!"

The great tank of an enemy pokémon raised its paws, and a shockwave of electricity pounded through the air towards Bolt's side of the field. For a third time, Kenta withstood the electrical energy as if nothing had happened, but Bolt shuddered and flapped painfully to the ground, obviously stunned.

"Speed is our edge, and we're not losing it!" barked Kenta. "Eat the berry, Bolt!"

"It's too late, I have you now!" shouted the officer victoriously. "Tyranitar, take it down with Stone Edge!"

"Too slow!" Kenta retaliated, as Tyranitar lifted its great tail to full height to smash his Salamence. "Bolt, Brick Break!"

In a second's time, Bolt skull-rammed Tyranitar in its diamond-shaped gut, twisting the foe's body in a forced awkward angle. Then Tyranitar flew backwards with all the force of a falling meteor, slamming heavily into a pine tree with a resounding crack. With its back-spikes holding it fast to the wood, the great tank of a pokémon hung uselessly, unable to do anything but drop its head limply as consciousness left its body. To the three humans looking upon the defeated creature, it looked as though it had been crucified.

A spooky silence followed in the forest clearing as the sandstorm wore down, having nothing to keep it going. The defeated police officer gaped disbelievingly at his beaten Tyranitar, then with apparent effort, looked back at Kenta. Hibiki, who was too busy staring in shock at Bolt, also turned his attention to Kenta. _Incredible,_ he thought, as Kenta walked up to his Salamence and rubbed its head with a jubilant smile. _Between Bolt and Kenta, there's an unfathomable amount of force on our side. We may really be able to pull this off, after all!_

"People . . . people like you," the policeman breathed, looking at Kenta with wide eyes, "you're the reason we had to let G.R.I.P. take over trainers' pokémon. It's because of you rogue trainers, who defy authority with your power."

"Not me," said Kenta softly, scratching underneath Bolt's neck while he looked at his fallen opponent. "It's because of what G.R.I.P. has done, that I fight you. But I am not a criminal, and I can't have you identifying me as one." He glanced behind him, at Hibiki. "Come on over here."


	8. Chapter 8

Hibiki began to move forward at the summon, but Munchlax waddled past him, and only then did he realize that Kenta had been calling the pokémon. However, Kenta's eyes met his a moment later. "You too, Cloaked Assistant. I've got something to tell you."

Kenta looked down at Munchlax, who was now standing beside him. He pointed at the officer, who was motioning to his Pidgeot and not looking at them. "Yawn."

Munchlax's mouth opened wide, and Hibiki saw a strange mist leave the fat little pokémon's jaws. It blew over to the police officer and his Pidgeot, just as they were standing side-by-side. In an instant, both slumped to the ground, and the cop looked up at Kenta through half-closed eyes. "What . . . did you . . . do to me?"

"You're going to sleep for a while," Kenta responded cheerily, his usual smile back on his face. "No hard feelings, but you have to stay here for now. I don't want you calling for backup as long as I'm still anywhere nearby."

The patrol Pidgeot flapped its wings feebly, and Hibiki wondered if it was attempting a last-minute Whirlwind attack to keep out of danger. The officer's eyelids drooped, yet he remained focused on Kenta with what little he had left of his consciousness.

"Who . . . are you?"

Kenta took a dramatic half-bow. "Why, I'm Brendan Birch of course."

The officer could make no response. His body went limp, and he began to snore heavily. Beside him, his Pidgeot lay with its wings spread wide, looking as though it had just been shot down from the sky. Kenta patted Munchlax's head with a smile, murmured "good work," and knelt down beside the sleeping officer.

"Just a little business to take care of, and then we'll be off," he announced to Hibiki, handing him the policeman's I.D. information. "Here, find someplace to drop Officer Takinawa's badge where he won't find it. Maybe hold onto it until we're back in the air, then let it fall wherever." He pointed towards Tyranitar's pokeball, which was lying on the ground where "Officer Takinawa" had tossed it. "Crush it to dust, Bolt," he ordered his dragon pokémon. "I'll give you the Pidgeot's ball in a second. Looks like this guy only had two pokémon on him. I guess even higher-up law enforcement has to follow that new 'two pokémon only' regulation set down by the government. Let's hope so; it'll make things a little easier on us . . ."

"What're you looking for?" asked Hibiki, standing over Kenta to see more clearly what was going on. Kenta rolled Officer Takinawa's body over so that he was lying on his other side, then shook his head. "Weird. He hasn't got a pistol. Do you see one, Hibiki?"

"No, but I can tell you why." Hibiki held up a finger, happy to know something that Kenta didn't, for once. "They said on the news that, in exchange for police officers being allowed uber pokémon, lethal arms would no longer be used for law enforcement."

". . . Oh."

Hibiki looked at Kenta, trying to glimpse his face, but Kenta had turned away. "That means less people will die each year," he said quietly, with the smallest hint of shame in his voice. "The whole of Japan is switching from guns to pokémon, because of G.R.I.P.'s actions. Maybe . . . maybe they're not all bad in what they're trying to do."

"Kenta . . ." Hibiki put a consoling arm around his brother's shoulder, despite being nearly six inches shorter than him. "It's like you said. We're not criminals. Let's keep to opposing what's bad, and hanging on to the good."

"Yeah." Kenta looked down at him and smiled faintly. "GRIP has some of its priorities right. We'll do what we can to make them all right, okay?"

"Okay!" Hibiki climbed onto Bolt's back, as the Salamence was tramping busily on the broken fragments of Pidgeot's pokeball. "Munchlax, it's time to go!"

...

About five minutes later, the Nyna brothers had resumed their flight as it had been before they'd been called down by the cop. Hibiki, having carefully wiped his fingerprints from Officer Takinawa's badge, tossed it down into the treetops below, then leaned back and rested against Munchlax's torso. "I've got a question about the battle, Kenta," he declared, looking behind him at his older brother. Kenta looked back at him invitingly. "Fire away."

"Bolt and that Tyranitar were about the same level, right?"

"Uh-huh." Kenta patted the Salamence's head fondly. "Bolt may have been a little bit higher. We've been through nine circles of Hell over the past few months."

"Yeah, but . . ." Hibiki waved his hand impatiently. "One Brick Break knocked that Tyranitar completely out of the picture! Was that really just a regular attack?"

"Sure. It was just a little something I had a friend pick up for me in Celadon Department Store." Kenta knocked his fists together, symbolizing impact. "But you've gotta realize stats and type advantages if you're ever going to be a pokémon trainer someday, Hibiki. Bolt's Attack stat is his pride and joy, and Brick Break is a physical move. But more importantly, it's Fighting-type." Kenta punched the air animatedly. "And against a pokémon with a type combination of Rock and Dark- boom! That's a quadruple weakness. All clear?"

"So why'd you do an Aerial Ace earlier?"

"I was hoping to knock his item off." Kenta reached into Hibiki's bag and pulled out an oddly-shaped shell on a string. "See this? It's a Shell Bell. This is the perfect thing to have when you've got a really strong fighter pokémon on your team, but no healing items to keep up its health. With every attack you make, it restores hitpoints to your pokémon." He made a grimacing face. "If that Stone Edge of his had hit first, Bolt would've been crushed, and Tyranitar would have probably risen to full health. That was a closer match than you know, dude."

Kenta's comment set off another question in Hibiki's mind. Still seeing no sign of Azalea Town in the distance, he let it go freely. "That sure _was_ close. How'd you know to give Bolt a Cheri Berry in advance? I didn't know Tyranitar could learn Thunder Wave."

"Ah, yeah . . ." Kenta scratched the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. "Again, good thing I did, huh? Here's what you should understand, Hibiki." He pointed his finger upwards, to indicate he was "making a point." "The pokémon follows its trainer's personality, if the two are close. I've been told that I'm a jolly kind of guy by many people. Do you believe that?"

"I don't know. Marina tells me you were always cold-shouldering her."

Kenta twitched at hearing Marina's name, turned a little red, then shook his head rapidly. "Beside the point! Anyway, Bolt here also has the 'jolly' nature, which appears to make his fire breath weaker than usual, but his speed higher. So he's pretty darn agile."

"What does this have to do with the Cheri Berry?"

"I'm getting there!" Kenta held up his finger again. "Bolt excels in speed. But if we were ever to lose that edge, we'd be toast in battle. The quickest way to do that is for the other trainer to hit him with a paralyzing effect. I never know when that's going to happen, so I usually have Bolt keep a Cheri Berry in one of his cheeks at all times." He saluted Hibiki briskly. "A good boy scout is ready for anything."

Hibiki eyed Kenta carefully. "I'll say you were ready . . . you must've anticipated being shocked by that officer's taser, too. How'd you avoid being fried by that?"

"Well that's-" Kenta stopped, noticing something out of the corner of his eye, then twisted completely around so that his back was to Hibiki again. "Look!" he said distractedly. "There's Azalea Town, dead ahead. Hold on tight, Hibiki, we're going down. You too, Munchlax!"

...

Over its years of being a quiet little town in the middle of nowhere, Azalea had become overrun on the outskirts with thicket bushes and wildlife. Since it was only the first day of April, there was still significant dead plant life, except for the surrounding evergreen pines and the cold-resilient pecha berry trees. Even the town's Slowpoke population, which matched the humans as closely as kangaroos did Australians in numbers, was nowhere to be seen on the streets. The only signs of life were two woodcutters returning from the Azalea Forest to the west, and one middle-aged female jogger wearing headphones.

Bolt hovered to the ground in a backyard behind a particularly traditional-looking Japanese house, which appeared on first impression to be hundreds of years old. Kenta leaped off the Salamence's back, and bade Hibiki to follow him while keeping a hand on the dragon pokémon's head. "You stay here, Bolt. We can't risk anyone seeing you in the open, even if there is practically nobody out today."

They walked around to the front of the house, with Munchlax waddling slowly behind, and Kenta knocked on the door. He turned to Hibiki, poking a thumb at it. "Don't be surprised at anything you may hear, when old Kurt answers. He's a little out of it in his senior age. But don't worry . . . we go back, Kurt and I."

The door slid open, revealing a young man with a pokeball in his hand, holding a hammer in the other. He stared in shock at the two strangers on his doorstep, partially at the youth in Kenta's brown traveler's cloak, but primarily at Kenta himself. "Y-you!" he stammered. "But . . . but you . . ."

"Curtis!" said Kenta sternly, pointing at the pokeball in the other man's hand, "What do you think you're doing, answering the door with that in plain sight? Have you forgotten what I told you?"

"Uh . . . oh! Sorry. Get in, quickly!"

Kenta reached out and pulled Hibiki through the threshold of the sliding door, and Curtis pulled it shut behind them a second later. The three of them stood looking at each other for a moment, and Curtis pointed at Hibiki. "Erm . . . who's he?"

"Oh, him?" Kenta patted Hibiki's shoulder affectionately, giving Curtis a reassuring smile. "We can trust him. He's my younger brother. Hibiki, this is Curtis Kuchinana, a personal friend of mine, American exchange student, and apprentice to the pokeball master craftsman, Kurt."

"More like adopted grandson," coughed Curtis. He looked at Kenta seriously. "More importantly- you're alive! How did you survive the Silph Incident?" Curtis looked at Kenta's choice of dress. "And why're you wearing Brendan Birch's clothing?"

"There'll be time for that later," said Kenta hastily, checking around the room to make sure all the window shutters were closed. "Curtis, is your grandpa in? I really need to talk to him about something. It's very important!"


	9. Chapter 9

Curtis didn't answer. Instead, he stood with his shoulders slumped, and his eyes gazing dully downwards, an expression of misery pasted on his face. "Grandpa . . . isn't here," he said despondently, staring at the ground. Kenta looked at him interrogatively. "Not here?" he repeated. "Well . . . where is he, then?"

"He's been taken to the local jail."

Hibiki heard Kenta gasp. The two brothers looked at each other, then back at Curtis. "Why's he in jail?" asked Hibiki nervously. "Did he do something wrong?"

"Of course not," insisted Curtis angrily, glaring at the door. "Those pigs issued a decree about three weeks ago, declaring that custom-made pokeballs were no longer allowed to be made without a permit. Can you believe that crap? We've been following a tradition for more than seventy years, hand-making apricorn pokeballs for needy trainers since before Professor Samuel Oak received his first Charmander. They can't just step in now and halt our life calling!"

"You weren't able to get a permit?" asked Kenta, watching as Curtis stomped his way moodily over to a workman's bench in the far corner of the room. The latter shook his head, his back turned to the Nyna brothers. "Only big merchandisers like Devon and Sierra Mana can get permits. We're just two people, keeping an ancient way of life in practice to this day.

"Anyway, Grandpa declared the decree pish-posh and went right on with making apricorn pokeballs." Curtis held up his arms, as if trying to reason with an invisible enemy. "You have to understand- he feels old and useless, and needs to do something to keep his hands busy. When the fuzz found out he was still working, they came in one night and just took him away. I tried begging them to let him do what he wants until his arthritis made him too clumsy to carry on, but they wouldn't listen." Curtis covered his face with a hand, looking ashamed of himself. "Then they hauled him off to the jail about six blocks away. They let me remain free, with a warning to keep my nose out of mischief. Lousy bunch of high-and-mighty . . ."

Kenta cleared his throat. Curtis stopped immediately, and waved his arms frantically in front of him in apology. "Oh, no, I don't include you with them, Kenta!"

"And it's just as well you shouldn't." Kenta gave him a small smile, winking at Hibiki. "Curtis, we need a favor. My brother and I have two pokémon that are outside the government's tracking system, and they're both getting pretty darn cold without a pokeball to stay in. Do you have any apricorn balls we could use for storage?"

"Oh, um, sure. Two unregistered pokeballs coming up." Curtis shook his sleeve, and three different-colored pokeballs immediately rolled out and bounced to the ground. He looked down at them, grinning innocently. "Sorry, heh, heh, heh. When I heard you knocking, I panicked and shoved 'em up my sleeve."

"You've still been carrying on apricorn-crafting?" gasped Hibiki, amazed at Curtis's daring after having the police visit his house. Curtis smirked proudly. "Like I'd stop working in Grandpa's absence. He'd create a pokeball out of my skull! I visit him in jail every day, and he always asks me about my progress."

"Really?!" Hibiki's jaw dropped in amazement. He barely felt Kenta push one of the apricorn balls hastily into his limp hand. "You must have over a hundred custom-made pokeballs done by now! I mean . . . three weeks is a long time! Where do you store them all?"

Curtis looked at Hibiki with a hint of skepticism in his eyes. "Um . . . well, I don't know if I should be telling you that . . ."

"Classified information?" asked Kenta playfully, observing the green pokeball he'd chosen from the three on the floor. "Curtis, this Friend Ball is amazing. I can't wait to try it out on Bolt."

Hibiki looked down at his own ball; it was colored black and white, and seemed a bit bigger than Kenta's Friend Ball. Curtis walked up to Hibiki and pointed down at Munchlax, who was eying the refrigerator in the northern corner of the room. "You've got a Heavy Ball. Go ahead and re-capture your pokémon in it. Un-cork the top, and give it a good toss."

There was a plug in the top of the Heavy Ball, and Hibiki twisted it off before letting the ball fly. "Hey, Munchlax," he muttered, "think fast." In a flash of light, his gluttonous companion pokémon was gone, and the Heavy Ball lay dormant on the floor. Curtis gave a triumphant bark of laughter, and picked up the Heavy Ball with a delighted grin on his face. "Here," he said, giving it back to Hibiki, "there's one captured pokémon that those pigs won't be able to warp away from you. Use it well."

"Thanks, Curtis," beamed Kenta, tossing the Friend Ball to himself. "I don't suppose there's any way we can repay you, is there?"

"Well . . ." The young pokeball craftsman pushed his glasses up his nose, not looking directly at either Kenta or Hibiki. "I don't suppose . . . if it's possible . . . could you somehow get poor old Kurt out of jail?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Kenta shot him a thumbs-up. "Leave it to us. Hibiki, let's get a move on."

"Wait!" Curtis held out his hand. The brothers stopped at the door, and Kenta turned and looked back at him. Curtis looked bewildered. "Just like that?" he asked blankly. "You're really going to rescue him?"

"Of course," said Kenta, grinning at him. "After what you've done for us, it's the least we can do."

Curtis continued to look at Kenta with a strange expression, then shifted his eyes slowly to Hibiki. "Something's going on," he said slowly, crossing his arms and watching the brothers. "Kenta, you came here because you wanted to talk to Grandpa. You're in disguise, so you obviously want people to continue thinking you're dead. And the only reason you'd want to consult Grandpa is because he knows the deepest secrets about making pokeballs." Curtis raised an eyebrow. "Training and capturing pokémon in secret? It's almost as if you're operating under the radar . . . Sergeant."

"Perceptive as always, Curtis," laughed Kenta easily, shaking his head. "Like I keep saying, you'd make an awesome detective if you were ever to work for Silhouette."

Curtis tried, and failed, to conceal a smile. "I'd just like to know what you're up to," he said in a sincere voice, looking down and kicking his foot back and forth. Kenta gave him a wave, as he slid open the door. "Don't worry, Curtis. I trust you. Before the day is out, we'll be back to tell you how the jail visit went. Then I'll give you your answers." He stepped outside, moved to shut the panel door, then paused, thinking. "Oh, and Curtis, don't let anyone find out you're making pokeballs. Unless, that is, you want them to know."

Kenta let the door shut with a snap, and Hibiki's last glimpse of Curtis was the abashed-looking young man performing a somewhat-shoddy salute, wearing a determined expression. The brothers looked at each other, and Hibiki shot Kenta a thumbs-up, grinning excitedly. "All right! Phase one complete!"

"You said it, bro," Kenta smirked, twisting his fist playfully in Hibiki's hair. "But we've still gotta get to Kurt, and see what we can do about this Master Ball. Get my uniform out of the pack, would you please?"

Hibiki removed his school backpack and zipped it open, remembering almost instantly where in the bag Kenta's military getup was folded after having taken inventory on it twice. "Here you go," he said, handing Kenta the pants, jacket, and police cap with the wig sewed around the edges. His brother accepted the clothes in his arms with a self-satisfied grin. "See? Look at that," he said, turning around and trotting off. "When you double-check inventory, you know where everything is when you need it later."

"Yeah, yeah, I get you. See you in a minute."

Kenta returned from Curtis's backyard a short while later, looking to all the world like the cop he once was. Hibiki marveled at how well the wig suited him; even after first impression, Hibiki still couldn't tell that the wig was fake.

"You look . . . very professional. If I didn't know better, I'd behave around you."

"Heh. This is why I like having you around."

The brothers began their walk down the empty street of the chilly town, and Kenta busied himself with shoving Brendan's clothing back into Hibiki's backpack. Looking at Bolt's Friend Ball and considering it for a moment, Kenta shook his head and pushed it in as well. "It's not your old Luxury Ball," he muttered, "but it'll hold you fine just the same. Stay in the bookbag for now, buddy, this next mission's a covert operation."

Seeing a police building about five blocks off in the distance, Hibiki pointed it out to Kenta. "Wow! It really is close by. What can I do to help out?" he asked eagerly. Kenta stopped, and Hibiki halted next to him, looking to his brother for instruction. Kenta's face was impassive.

". . . I hate to say it, but you won't be able to come with me for this one."

Hibiki looked at him, mildly surprised, and a tad bit disappointed. "I can't? Then what'll I do?"

Kenta pointed to a tiny building across the street, titled _Hikita's_. "I ate there once with Bakuphoon, back during my trainer days. Go ahead in, and order us some chicken and rice for lunch, while I'm away." His head was lowered. "Sorry, Hibiki. We can't afford to be seen together in front of the police. It'd be too suspicious." He looked his brother directly in the eye, glaring passionately at him. "Understand this. If I fail this mission, or if I ever get caught when I'm not with you, I need you to stay where you are, and not come after me. Deny you know me, if you're called as a witness. Will you do it?"

Hibiki looked at him, horrified, and after a long pause, barely nodded. "I'll do as you say."

"I won't be long." Kenta smiled at him. "We'll be eating together while the food's still hot, count on it." He patted Hibiki on the shoulder. "See you in a half hour or less."


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: As always, if you like what you see, you may wanna see what I like. I'm doing an audio recording of Dragon Riders: Kaze no Kaeru by NightDragon0 on YouTube. Check it out if you're into audiobooks.

...

Azalea Town's Officer Jenny was reading the morning paper at the desk of the police station when the door jingled and she saw a figure entering in with a stride to his step. She straightened up out of her seat and saluted her fellow officer smartly, as the custom went.

"Good . . . late morning, Jenny," Kenta said with a brisk smile, returning the salute. She relaxed and looked him up and down guardedly, putting a hand under his chin.

"Good morning. Let's see . . . do I know you?" she asked with an eyebrow raised. "I can't explain it, but you look . . . awfully familiar."

"Fa . . . miliar?"

Officer Jenny suddenly snapped her fingers, her face brightening. "Aha! I thought I recognized your face. You're Kenta Nyna, aren't you?"

Kenta tensed, gritting his teeth to keep from giving his shock away. _No! She knows who I am? Have I been found out already?!_

"Oh, come here, come here!" cheered Officer Jenny elatedly, putting out her hand and beaming enormously. "I had no idea you'd become part of the force! But after that incident three years ago, I'm not surprised. Congratulations!"

Relaxing on the inside, Kenta put out his hand and shook Officer Jenny's gloved one, grinning modestly. "Eh, heh, heh, I'm surprised you remembered."

"Who could forget?" Jenny pumped his arm continuously, still smiling widely. "You and old man Kurt were something else, when you went down and rescued all our town Slowpoke single-handedly from that horrible Rocket tail-cutting operation. I should've known it was only a matter of time before you became a real officer!"

"Y-yeah," said Kenta, flexing his fingers a bit in Jenny's grasp as his hand continued to be rattled up and down. Getting the hint, she let off, and saluted him again proudly. "So! What brings you back to Azalea Town, Officer Kenta?"

"Well, it's funny you should bring up the past," said Kenta, scratching the back of his head casually. "I believe you have Kurt Kuchinawa himself in your holding cells, right now. I need to interrogate him, if now's a good time."

"Oh." Officer Jenny's face fell. "Yes, go ahead. Now's a good time all right, but trust me, the bad times are imminent." She pointed out the glass doors, through which Kenta had entered, to the empty streets outside. "There are a lot of angry pokémon trainers out there- or should I say, former pokémon trainers- who are still waking up in the morning to realize that their pokémon are really gone. It's the quiet before the storm, I know it. Be careful, Kenta, there may still be quite a few rioting incidents in the next couple of months before everyone's used to this new system."

"I'll keep that in mind," answered Kenta, waving as he pushed through the door leading to the back of the police station. _Yes, there's going to be trouble all right,_ he thought grimly, heading down the hall towards the cells downstairs. _But with any luck, we can resist assertively without being flat-out violent. People with hope are a lot more reasonable than people without it._

As Kenta passed the jail cells, a couple of the prisoners leered at him, and one made a hacking noise in his throat, as if to spit up a ball of mucus at him. "So," came a sneering voice from a cell he'd just passed, "the little hero returns." Kenta stopped, staring straight ahead. He vaguely recognized the voice, as the speaker went on cynically. "Come to take something else away from us, huh? I can't imagine what more you could want."

"Do you think I'm here to talk to you guys?" he asked quietly. A splatter of spit landed a few inches away from his shoe, and he smiled bitterly. "Well . . . you're right. But wait your turns, okay?"

"Who's that?" came an elderly, wheezy voice from the furthest cell at the end of the room. "I know that voice from somewhere . . . you're not Curtis though, are you?"

Kenta stepped in front of the bars and looked through, smiling at the man he saw on the other side. "Hello, Elder Kurt," he said, pulling up an interrogation stool sitting against the wall and seating himself on it. "You're looking good for your age."

The short and balding man gazed keenly at Kenta with a pondering hand over his mouth, and his eyes widened in recognition. "Well, I'll be," he said, breaking out in a semi-toothless smile. "It's the boy with the Cyndaquil from back in the good old days. You're taller than me now!"

"Heh, at this point, Maisy probably is, too." Kenta pointed over his shoulder. "I meant to ask Curtis about her, but it slipped my mind. Is she still with you?"

"No, she's been home with her parents." Kurt shook his head sadly. "It's just as well. I wouldn't want my granddaughter seeing me in here like this. It would break her little heart."

Kenta leaned closer to Kurt's cell and lowered his voice. "But you didn't do anything wrong," he whispered in a reasoning tone. "You were just doing what you do best- helping pokémon trainers during their journeys, and keeping alive the tradition that your parents started."

Kurt snorted. "It doesn't matter anymore. The good days are over, anyway. It's just as well that I'm confined to this cell . . . at least I can be ignorant of the outside world, as it is these days."

"Oh, don't say that. We're just going through some hard times. It'll get better."

"How do you know . . . Officer?"

"Because I'm offering you the chance to continue doing what you do best," said Kenta calmly, reaching into his pocket and feeling around for what he was looking for. His fingers passed over the cold metal of Shin's lockpick, and rested on the cool cylindrical sphere which never left his side. Pulling it out, he passed it through the bars to his jailed companion. "Do you recognize what this is?"

Kurt stared down at the Master Ball in Kenta's hand, then picked it up in his own and examined it with fascinated eyes. "But . . . but . . . where did you get this?" he whispered loudly, his voice choked with awe. "This is the World Wonder of Japan!"

"Yeah, and soon the world may very well wonder how we became the Fourth Reich," Kenta said dourly, narrowing his eyes. "You may not know this, but our government seized all data on the Master Ball after shutting Silph Corporation down. On top of that, they've got over ninety percent of all the trained pokémon in Japan, and the few remaining people who can still be legally considered trainers have barely any power at all.

"Do you understand what I'm getting at? Led by G.R.I.P., the government now has control over an obedient army of super-creatures who can do virtually anything. They don't need us normal people for anything but work. How long will it be before some corrupt politician attempts to become a ruler with this new power? What will we do, then?"

Kurt looked horrified. Around Kenta, he could hear eavesdropping prisoners muttering to each other. He caught little bits of words and phrases, such as "got a point," "never liked them," "conspiracy theorist," and "I told you!" Ignoring them for now, he focused his eyes on Kurt, who was still grasping the Master Ball. "Maybe I'm just paranoid, but there's no excusing the fact that we have a major power difference between the government and the people of Japan."

Kenta pointed at Kurt's gnarly hands. "That's where you come in. Kurt, you've got the experience and wisdom needed to analyze the Master Ball to the fullest. I need you . . ." He annunciated his words intently. "To duplicate it."

" . . . . . Duplicate it, you say."

"As many times as you can."

Kurt shook his head. "Even if that were possible, I can't expect to do anything in here. That Officer Jenny woman comes to inspect my cell every day; she'll find any new item that I've got." He shook his head a second time, with a defeated expression. "I can't even be angry with her. She does seem to feel sorry that I'm in here, after all the years we've known each other in this town."

 _Is that right? Hmmm . . ._

Kenta put his hand through the bars of Kurt's cell, a solemn expression on his face. "I can free you, right here and now," he said seriously, as Kurt looked at him. "But afterwards, you'll have to be on your guard like never before in your life. You're going to be visited by the police again, and criminals too, along with all sorts of other people you've never seen. And you will have to deal with all of them in the exact right way, to avoid being imprisoned again, or worse. Nevertheless, you may be the difference between a free Japan or an enslaved Japan, in the near future."

Kurt grasped Kenta's hand immediately with both of his own, placing the Master Ball back in his palm. There was a gleam of excitement in his glazed old eyes. "Now, who do you think I am?" he asked gruffly, mirroring Kenta's expression with a wrinkly smile. "When trouble arises, I don't hesitate for a moment. Throw your worst at old Kurt, and just see what happens!"

"That's the attitude I remember you by." Kenta turned away from Kurt's cell and looked down the prison hallway at the other cells containing offenders of the law. "Then I'll be back in a minute to get you out. But before I go . . ."

 _They're all Rockets. Leave it to Team Rocket to make us require an entire police station for pokémon-using felons alone._

"You guys heard everything, as I intended you would. Now you know what's going on. What you choose to do with this information is your call. My name is Kenta Nyna, and as of this moment, you may consider me your ally."

"And why should we do that?" came a challenging voice from a cell one spot over Kurt's. Kenta approached it, feeling a sudden tingle of hope for some reason, and beheld a rather short young man at approximately his own age glaring at him. "You got me arrested back during the Lake of Rage incident," he said angrily. "What reason do I have to trust you?"

 _Hey . . . I remember this guy. He was the short kid whose mask was always slipping off because he couldn't tie it on properly. At that time, he was only fifteen years old . . . and yet he owned a Crobat. That one creature proved to be one of the toughest opponents a Rocket has ever thrown at me._

"You're right." Kenta reached into his pocket and pulled out Shin's lockpick. "How can you know if I'm really trustworthy or not? Well, the fact is, you can never be sure." He pointed at the Rocket with the butt of his lockpick. "What's your name?"

" . . . Yosuke. Shimera Yosuke."

Kenta smiled humorlessly. "I see. Well then, Yosuke, here's what you can do now." He flipped open the lockpick's blade, pointing it in his own direction. "You can stab me right here and now, for being a lying troublemaker. Technically speaking, I'm already one anyway." He snapped the knife blade back in, and flicked out the lock-picking device. "Or . . . you can wait until the right moment to break out of here. You know these guys better than me, so take the ones you trust with you."

He pushed the lockpick through the bars, into Yosuke's hands. The latter looked stunned, and Kenta felt a little surprised at himself for what he'd just done. Nevertheless, he kept up his calm act, knowing he couldn't afford to show weakness. He'd rehearsed this scenario already, and now that it had come, he had to pull it off correctly. "You'll have no pokémon once you make it back to the other side, but that can be arranged, Yosuke. Come see Kurt and Curtis at the last house west of the village, before Azalea Forest. To show that you're a friend, give them the password, which is . . ."

Kenta made sure nobody heard him, as he whispered a single word to Yosuke. Moving again to leave, he stopped, nearly forgetting something, and backtracked to Kurt's cell. "Sorry," he said, putting his hands together apologetically. "I need to catch up with my brother once I've gotten you out, so I'll leave you with this." Once more, he transferred the Master Ball to Kurt, who shoved it into his kimono inner pocket. "I should tell you, there's something you should know about that ball . . ."


	11. Chapter 11

Hibiki stood outside of _Hikita's_ restaurant, leaning against the wall and holding the bagged chicken and rice in his left hand as he watched unblinkingly for any signs of movement from the police station. He didn't know how much time had passed when two people finally did emerge from the front doors in the distance and headed in his direction. Straining his eyes to see who it was, Hibiki's heart leaped for joy when he recognized Kenta in the police uniform, and the elderly Kurt marching merrily alongside of him. He sprinted across the street and towards the two of them as fast as he could without dropping his food, and stopping in front of them, he leaned over and panted for breath. Kenta and Kurt looked down at him, and the elder turned to the younger.

"Your brother?"

"Yes, Elder. Could I talk to him for a few minutes?"

"Take as long as you want, but I need to get home!" Kurt bustled on past Hibiki, positively glowing, and walking with a spring in his step. Both brothers watched him go, then turned to look at each other. Kenta glanced down at the bag in Hibiki's hand. "Oh, you got it! Well then, let's go back in and eat, I'm starving."

"Kenta, you . . . you did it!" Hibiki jumped at his big brother and hugged him tightly, overjoyed and relieved to see that he'd made it back out with the old prisoner. "How were you able to get him past the building's police?"

"Oh, simple," said Kenta, as the two of them headed back towards Hikita's. "I lied a little. Remember how Curtis was telling us about that recent decree, stating that nobody could make pokeballs without a license?"

"Yeah."

"It turns out Azelia's police force acted too early in this regard."

"Hmm . . ."

They'd reached the restaurant door. As they went in and seated themselves at a table, a thought came to Hibiki. "Could it be that they acted early because they're afraid?"

"Afraid? Heh, they wouldn't like you using that word." Kenta opened the brown paper bag, and pulled out box of chicken and rice. It was still warm. "But I think you've hit the nail on the head. Everyone gets nervous when new rules are laid down, especially the rule-keepers. And sometimes they get hasty, and break old rules to uphold the new." He snapped the complimentary chopsticks apart. "Anyway, this is where my lie comes in. I told Officer Jenny that I was there on a certain Captain's orders to release Kurt, because he was being unlawfully contained. She probably would've believed me even if she didn't already know me." Kenta shoved a piece of chicken into his mouth. "I'll tell you what, acting in the name of authority works wonders."

Hibiki dug into his own share of the food, surprised at his own hunger. After all his excitement in the past twelve hours, there was really no wonder that he was so hungry, but then again, he'd never participated in anything like this before. Guilt curbed his appetite a little bit, and for a moment, he felt his stomach give a small threat to throw up. But he swallowed his food, and voiced his concerns quietly to Kenta so that nobody else in the restaurant would hear.

"Hey, um . . . is it really okay that we're doing this? Lying and working in secret and stuff?"

Kenta looked at Hibiki somberly, and somewhat sadly. He rested his head on his chin with a sigh. "No. No, it's not okay," he muttered in a raspy tone, looking somewhat disgusted. "Not when the government does it, and not when we do it. We're both guilty."

"Then what makes us better?" Hibiki pressed. "Why can't we continue to just be good, and let them alone be wrong?"

"Because I can't go back to that anymore," responded Kenta in a final tone. He had a haunted look in his eyes. "There's no more 'life the way it was' for me, now. If they find me out, I'm a dead man. Remember what I told you this morning about Silph Corporation?"

Hibiki thought for a moment _. I only remember him saying he was betrayed there by Silhouette, and that Bolt rescued him from death at the end. I didn't really question much about it after that._

He saw that Kenta was gazing at him, but with a faraway look in his eyes. "I didn't really go into detail about it, did I?" Kenta asked softly, stirring his chopsticks through his rice. "We were too busy talking about what we'd be doing, and not about what had already happened. But we've got time now."

"Okay." Hibiki chewed a piece of his chicken absently, his focus on his older brother, his only brother. "I'm listening."

Kenta was in another place. The words he spoke were Hibiki's to hear, but he was no longer talking to Hibiki directly. He was reliving the past.

...

The halting of the Silph elevator, along with the glowing matrix-dotted "3" just above the double-doors, confirmed for Kenta that he was on the third floor. He braced himself as the doors slowly parted before him, but had no idea what he would do. Outside, standing right in the center of the hallway, two figures waited for him to come out. One was a man in his late thirties wearing a suit, and the other, a sleepy-looking pokémon with a miniature trunk, which Kenta recognized as a Drowzee. Kenta walked straight forward, determined to avoid eye contact with either of them, and both allowed him past and followed from behind. He could tell by their footsteps that they were very close.

"Into the room on the left," the man said sternly, pointing to a doorway reading "302." Kenta turned the knob and pushed inwards, pondering how he would take on the trainer with the Drowzee if it came to that. He'd have to be quick, or the man would simply have Drowzee use Disable on him and freeze up his entire body.

Kenta's train of thought failed him as he saw what was waiting for him within Room 302. A woman was sitting on a table in the center of the room, next to a computer. Tied up on the floor were Officers Dei and Sosuke, the two men in charge of the original Silph inspection. Kenta noticed a phone on the wall to the left, out of the corner of his eye, but he would only try it if he knew he couldn't be detected. He hadn't forgotten the receptionist's threat from a minute ago. If there really were Electrode positioned throughout the entire building, he wouldn't do anything to risk making them explode.

"You." The woman sitting on the table pointed at Kenta, and slid off the edge so that she touched down. "Are you the backup cop?"

Kenta nodded.

"Where's your partner?"

"Downstairs. At the front desk."

"What's he doing there?"

Kenta looked at her. "Don't you know? He's keeping the rest of the force from flooding in here and arresting you people for what you're doing."

The woman shook her head. "My name is Rena Saishi," she said, putting her hand out to shake. "And I'm currently the most distrusted person involved in the Master Ball Project. They haven't told me a thing in the last half hour."

Kenta didn't move, and waited until Saishi's hand had dropped. "Distrusted?" he repeated skeptically. "Excuse the irony, but I find that hard to believe, considering they left you to guard the hostages."

"Then I'll help your unbelief. You see . . ." Saishi reached into her work blouse, and from under her bra, pulled out a tiny, spherical object colored purple. "Anyone in charge of holding the Master Ball automatically becomes the most distrusted person."

She widened the ball, and Kenta looked at it in alarm. He continued to stare, unable to believe his eyes. He'd only seen the "Master Ball" one other time, and that had been two years ago when his father's old colleague, Professor Elm, had presented the concept to him. At the time, Elm had picked up an Ultra Ball from one of Blackthorn City's dragon tamers. Supposedly, this particular Ultra Ball was unusually powerful, and had helped the trainer succeed in capturing a fishhooked Dragonair on the first throw. From this Ultra Ball, Elm had done some redesigning, and finally showed Kenta gleefully the fruit of his labors . . . an imperfect Master Ball. Kenta recalled how badly his old professor had wanted to be the one to finally succeed in making the true Master Ball, but he'd never have that now.

Saishi tossed the Master Ball casually to herself, looking closely at Kenta as his eyes followed it. "They suspect me rightly, you know. I came to your people not long ago, offering this ball for a . . . modest reward. They were very interested, but just the slightest bit skeptical to whether or not it was the real deal. I didn't have it at the time. Meanwhile, the people on my end were all becoming more and more suspicious of one another as the Master Ball neared completion, and I began to want out of the project. I knew too much by now, you see? I'm not nearly as useful as I was in the beginning.

"So what's a poor businesswoman to do? Stay here and be arrested or possibly shot by my own people? Or . . . do I depart from this place, just as the police are swarming in to take away all the criminals who want me out of the picture? Ah, but I can never leave this building with any trace of the Master Ball Project on my body. The door alarms will catch me. Security is harsh in this place, and I'm stuck in this room . . ."

She smiled suddenly, evilly, triumphantly. ". . . with three pokémon-holding officers, a telephone, and a dead security camera. Ah, the hasty scramblings of frightened criminals when they realize they've been cornered. And all it took to set this whole thing off was a vital Master Ball document 'accidentally' left on the Silph network's public server during inspection. How careless!"


	12. Chapter 12

"You set your own people up?" asked Kenta incredulously. He narrowed his eyes. "But in doing so, you made a serious mistake, lady. Your receptionist informed me that this whole building will be blown to bits by Electrode if more police officers arrive for backup. Or didn't they tell you that, either?"

Saishi threw back her head and began to laugh. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Is . . . is that what she told you?" she managed to gasp, wiping a tear from her eye. Kenta nodded, and Saishi snickered a few more seconds before answering. "I am one of this project's administrators!" she declared with a waving gesture towards the telephone. "I know the leader too well. He wouldn't dare destroy this building, not only because his precious project's information is still here, but also because of sentimental value. He just plain likes the building!"

She offered him the phone, still laughing to herself. "Please, by all means, call for backup. Oh! On one condition." Saishi held up her finger and Kenta waited, his mind whirling as he tried to keep up with it all.

 _What have I gotten myself into?_

"Once you make the call, officer, I want out of here. My people may try to silence me when they see police cars swarming in over the horizon, and that won't do, oh no. You and those other two on the floor must be my bodyguards until I'm seen to safety."

Kenta smiled grimly at her. "Your bodyguards, huh?"

"Indeed." She returned the smile. "Why do you think I volunteered to watch over you guys?"

 _I see. You need us. In spite of this careful planning you've done, it's all for nothing if we don't cooperate._

"Then I'm setting down my own condition." Kenta put out his hand sternly. "Hand over the Master Ball for now. I'll keep it safe."

Saishi looked at him disbelievingly. "You'll set no such condition," she said softly. "I don't even know you, and I certainly will not bargain with you. I'll keep the Master Ball, thank you very much."

 _I may never get another chance at this. I must have that ball!_

"You may as well hand it over now," Kenta reasoned, trying his hardest to stay calm. "It'll be taken from you the moment you're amongst officers anyway. I, on the other hand, know who you are now. I can vouch that you secured it with me . . . if you let me hold it. I can do nothing if it's on you."

 _One way or another, lady_ , he thought as Saishi glared at him, apparently doing some fast thinking. His thoughts drifted to the two pokémon in his pocket _. If I have to, I'll take it from you by force. Nobody else will have seen it but your prisoners, and who do you think they'll side with?_

Very reluctantly, Saishi offered Kenta her Master Ball, her face contorted in an ugly look. Taking it away, Kenta sank the ball into his pocket with a pounding heart, and pulled out a pokeball in its place. "Bakuphoon," he murmured, and in a burst of light, a giant fire ferret appeared before him. The Typhlosion gave him a salute, and Kenta returned the gesture before pointing towards the tied-up Dei and Sosuke. "Cut those officers free from their ropes," he ordered hastily. "Afterwards, stand by for orders. Do not attack this woman, she's a friendly. Go!"

As Bakuphoon scampered over the prisoner officers and began chewing on their bonds, Saishi rushed to the computer and knocked on the screen. "Porygon! Time to go." The head of a virtual pokémon with a 32-bit appearance poked out of the monitor, and it nodded to its master before ducking back inside. Kenta picked up the telephone receiver and listened for a dial tone. For a moment, he heard nothing, then Porygon's echoing cry resounded through the phone. At the next moment, it was working again, and Kenta had the feeling that Porygon had broken through Silph's security system to connect him with the outside world. Not pausing for a moment, he dialed the number to his military outpost and waited impatiently until he heard someone pick up on the other end.

"HQ, this is Sergeant Kenta Nyna, requesting immediate backup to the Silph Corporation building in Saffron City, repeat . . ."

When he'd finished his call, Officers Dei and Sosuke were already free, with their own pokémon out. A Weezing and a Growlithe stood at ready beside Bakuphoon, and Saishi's Porygon floated out of the computer the next moment to total four pokémon on alert. Kenta saluted his two comrades briskly.

"Are you two both okay?"

"Yes, Sergeant."

"And you heard everything?"

"Affirmative. What are our objectives?"

"We're on the third floor of Silph Corporation, and we need to get out. Our job is to protect Ms. Saishi from harm; she's got information on the Master Ball, and her comrades now consider her a whistle-blower. Also, Lieutenant Shin may still be on the first floor, we need to save him as well. We've got ten minutes before backup arrives. Are we taking the elevator, or the stairs?"

"Stairs. They might trap us in the elevator."

"Alright. Be advised, there's one man out in the hallway with a Drowzee." Kenta turned to Saishi sharply, a lot more comfortable now that his side was somewhat back in control. "What else might we run into? Pokémon? Firearms?"

"No guns, except for the higher-ups," Saishi responded hurriedly. "But everyone has pokémon. Mostly there are Magnemite and Magneton, and a few Electrode . . . but those are used for pokeball research, not battling!"

 _Hmm. If that's the case, enemy pokémon should be at levels in their upper twenties or lower thirties. Moderately powerful, but nothing we can't handle. Let's just hope they don't attack in large numbers._

"Listen," said Kenta, "the hallways are confining. There's enough space for only one pokémon to effectively battle at a time. Any attacks will be straightforward and predictable. We'll need a berserker out front to pave the way, while someone else covers the rear. Who's going?"

Bakuphoon's paw immediately shot up. "Bakra!"

Kenta smiled fondly at his starter pokémon. "As expected. Alright, Baku, I'm going to pull back the door, one the count of three. Ready? One . . ."

"Cover him," commanded Officer Sosuke, and his Growlithe charged the door just as Kenta yelled "three!" and yanked it open. Both Fire-type pokémon lunged out into the hall, and a sudden yelp of surprise from the guard on duty was followed by a brilliant orange aura as the Growlithe and Typhlosion lit up the whole passage. Kenta and his companions rushed out the door into the heated-up hallway, and were met with the sight of charred walls and two smoldering figures lying unconscious on the floor. An instant later, an alarm began to sound, and water began spraying down from the ceiling on everyone.

"Oh hell, we've triggered the smoke detectors!" cried Dei. Kenta shook his head and waved his hand. "Dammit . . . don't stop now, the stairs are this way!"

"Porygon, didn't you disable the fire alarm?!" barked Saishi furiously at her Porygon. The virtual pokémon hovered a few feet back from her, looking terrified. She pointed back into the hostage room, where the computer still sat indifferently to the sudden chaos. "Don't just float there, go turn it off!"

Every door in the hallway banged open as Silph employees emerged, looking around to see what the cause was for the sudden outbreak of noise. All eyes fell on the uniformed officers in the middle of the passage and their Fire-type pokémon, and a single shout went up from them. "Escape! Escape, they're trying to escape!"

"Get out of the way, or we'll put you down!" Kenta warned, rushing forward alongside his Typhlosion. "Baku! Flame Wheel! Make a path!"

"Electrode!" One of the workers in a white lab coat cast a pokeball on the floor, and a creature looking like the enormous version of its ball appeared. "Use Selfdestruct!"

There was no time to react. Bakuphoon smashed headlong into the Electrode, unable to maneuver right or left, and the enemy pokémon exploded, throwing Kenta and the others back from the force of the blast. "Baku!" shouted Kenta, horrified that his own pokémon having been caught in the explosion. As the smoke cleared, he saw his Typhlosion rise and shake off the attack vigorously. "Hey! You okay?"

"Bakra!" Bakuphoon looked back at him, then shot a thumbs-up. The next moment, his eyes narrowed and he bore his fangs fiercely at the scientists still standing in front of him. The collar of fire on his neck flared up to a luminous blaze, and a swirling mist formed at his feet as the water surrounding him evaporated instantly into steam. Kenta knew this mode. Baku was in his berserk state, where mind conquered matter, and pain didn't register unless his adrenaline flow was halted somehow. Baku could take some serious punishment in this state. Kenta had once seen him charge straight through a pressure-stream of water without even slowing down. Earlier in that same day, he'd been smashed full in the face by a Hitmonlee's Hi Jump Kick, only to shake it off and incinerate the foe with a single devastating Flamethrower in retaliation. When push came to shove, Bakuphoon feared nothing, not even legendary pokémon.

"Hold them back! Magneton!" The next Silph scientist threw his pokeball, and from it emerged a three-way connection of Magnemite, combined to form a more powerful magnet pokémon. It crackled with electricity, and the Silph trainer pointed at Bakuphoon furiously. "Use Thunder! It's a sure hit in this climate!"

Kenta covered his eyes instinctively. He didn't want to take his sight off the battle for a moment, but if he was going to command Bakuphoon properly, he'd have to avoid going blind. He heard a loud disembodied crash, the kind only concentrated electricity could create, and felt his body jerk wildly. When he opened his eyes, he was looking up at the ceiling, and the nozzles that were still spraying water down on him. Pulling himself to his feet, he realized that he'd been blasted down by misdirected lightning from the Thunder attack. Six of the Silph workers near the Magneton's trainer were lying scattered through the hall, having been hit a lot harder by misdirected lightning for being so much closer. Bakuphoon himself was on all fours, his body shuddering from electric shocks, but his face alive and murderous.

"Are you CRAZY?!" shouted one of the two remaining Silph employees from behind the door of another room, at his colleague. "What in the hell is wrong with you? You'll kill us all, you bleeding lunatic!"


	13. Chapter 13

"But . . . but conditions are rainy, and Thunder always strikes-"

"Baku!" shouted Kenta, pointing at the Magneton. "Pay them back triple! Flamethrower!"

The scientist sneered at him. "Ha! Even with the type advantage, your damage is halved thanks to- waaaaargh!" The rest of his sentence was cut off as Bakuphoon's fire breath found him, along with his Magneton. The Typhlosion didn't cease flame until almost fifteen full seconds had passed, and Kenta had to run up and yank on Bakuphoon's back to keep him from continuing. "Stop! Don't, you'll kill him!"

Bakuphoon let off, slumping down, then pointed with a paw to his throat. Kenta understood in a moment, what he was trying to say. "Oh . . . you got paralyzed, and you couldn't stop. Alright, I think you've taken enough-"

But Bakuphoon was up and on his hind legs, snarling and bearing his blackened teeth in spite his injuries. The two remaining Silph scientists gasped in terror and ducked behind their door, slamming it. "M-monster!" Kenta could hear them crying loudly. "That's not a pokémon, it's a devil!"

Seeing that the front passage was clear, Kenta checked behind him. Officer Sosuke's Growlithe was gone, and he was crouching near the doorway they'd escaped from, holding its pokeball tenderly in his hands. Officer Dei's Weezing was locked in combat with another Magneton, whose owner had thankfully not been reckless enough to cast Thunder. Kenta waved urgently to them. "Retreat! You can't beat him, Steel-types are immune to poison!"

Dei nodded and shouted "Smog attack!" before following his comrades and Saishi down the hallway towards the stairs. Behind them, a cloud of toxic green gas billowed out and blanketed the passage in impenetrable murk. The small force of escapees had reached the staircase, when Dei pressed the elevator button, and the doors immediately opened. "I'm setting up a decoy," he said, rushing inside and pressing the "lobby" button. Ducking back out, he followed the group as Kenta led the way down the stairs.

The steps were somewhat slippery because of the water sprinklers, and everyone but Bakuphoon clung to the banister as they hurried down to the lower floor. Further up, Kenta could hear angry shouting issuing from jostled Silph Corporation workers on higher floors, getting closer each second. "Keep up the pace," he commanded as they swept past the second floor. From behind, he heard Dei order his Weezing to use another Smog on the hallway, which in turn covered the Silph workers in a blinding fog before they could react quickly enough.

"Any goons on the first floor we should know about?" Kenta asked Saishi as they neared the lobby. "No," came her speedy reply, "there's shouldn't be anybody except-"

At that moment they reached the bottom of the stairs, where they were greeted by the sight of Shin being held at gunpoint by the woman behind the front desk.

"-that bitch of a secretary."

"Don't move!" she screamed, holding the pistol less than a foot away from Shin's head while he kept his arms raised high in the air. "Any sudden movement, and he dies!"

At that moment, the elevator creaked open, which Dei had set up on the third floor. For a split second, the secretary's eyes shifted to the splitting doors, and a moment later Kenta heard a loud bang from right behind him. The secretary dropped out of sight below the desk, and Shin leaned over the side automatically to see what had happened. Kenta knew before he did, as he glanced behind him to see Ms. Saishi holding her own smoking pistol. "Dead!" he heard Shin cry in surprise, looking back at the group at the bottom of the stairs. "Kenta, what's going-"

Kenta heard an incoming clanking from behind him. He turned around just in time to see another Electrode bouncing down the stairs straight at the whole group, like a great lethal bowling ball. A flash of red shot out in front of the escape party, and in the next moment, an explosion expelled the small force backwards and sent them skidding across the waxed floor. Kenta scrambled to his feet, and looked to see what had just happened. Bakuphoon was lying on the floor beside a fainted Electrode, chest rising and falling rapidly. This was now the second Selfdestruct attack he'd braved in five minutes, and Kenta simply couldn't imagine how he was able to take so much abuse.

"Explanations later!" barked Saishi, sprinting headlong for the door, and grabbing Kenta's arm as she passed him. "We have to go!"

"Baku, return!" called Kenta, holding up the Typhlosion's pokeball as he was pulled away. The red beam shot out and disintegrated his pokémon back into its safety zone, and Kenta exhaled in relief. He'd have time to thank his loyal pokémon partner when they were back home, but first, they had to get out alive. In the meantime, he sprinted after Saishi, Dei, Shin, and Sosuke as they dove for the door and burst through it. The chill of early November air struck his face, and its implication of freedom was one of the best feelings of his life.

But there was one more thing to do. Thinking quickly, Kenta broke away from the group and made a dash to the right and down the first ally. Behind him, the sounds of sirens were approaching, and he hastened to get his deed finished. Pulling a Luxury Ball from his pocket, he gave it a light toss out in front of him. In a burst of light energy, a creature with the appearance of a shell on four legs stood before him, teething on something in its mouth. Kenta reached back into his pocket and pulled out the Master Ball he'd been given ten minutes previously, and held it in front of the Shelgon on the ground.

"Bolt, spit that out. I have something else you need to hold now."

The shell dragon coughed a grayish-blue stone with a dotted pattern into his hand: an Everstone. Kenta knelt down and held the Master Ball out for Bolt to take, when he heard rapid footsteps approaching from behind. Standing up and turning around, he found himself at gunpoint as Saishi glowered at him with trembling limbs. "You dirty pig," she spat, "I knew you just wanted that ball for yourself! Give it back to me this instant, or I swear to the gods I will pull this trigger and blow your head wide open."

Kenta looked at her, and at the pistol in her shaking hands, and took a deep breath to compose himself. "If you shoot me," he warned, "my Shelgon will shatter your Master Ball between his teeth. He knows Crunch; he's more than capable of doing it."

"I see. Then I'll have to shoot him first."

"Bad idea." Kenta stiffened, bending his knees in preparation to make any necessary sudden moves. "He knows Protect also, for exactly this kind of reason." His eyes narrowed. "And if you do shoot him, I will break your neck with my bare hands, even if it's in full sight of the whole police force. Nobody threatens my pokémon's life."

The two of them stood there in the alley staring one another down, while in the background patrol cars screeched to a halt and police could be heard shouting to one another as they charged the Silph building. Kenta glanced behind him at his Shelgon, who was still standing dutifully awaiting orders. "Bolt," he muttered, "go hide in the bushes back there. Do not let this maniac hit you. She's already killed one person."

Bolt blinked to show he understood, and twisted around, ducking into the undergrowth. Kenta turned back to Saishi, smiling grimly. "I'd put that gun down if I were you," he muttered, so that only she would hear. "If any of my force happens to see you holding an officer up, you'll be off to prison just like the people you betrayed."

Saishi smiled back, nastily. "That's what you think."

Turning, she waved her hand at one of the patrol cars, shoving the gun hastily under her shirt. "Captain Arcada! Over here, over here, quickly!"

Kenta's stomach leaped at the name of his captain being mentioned. From around the corner of the Silph building, he could just make out Captain Wester Arcada approaching him with two deputies at his heels. "Go take the building!" Kenta heard him command the other two. "I'll be fine. Report back in five minutes!"

"Captain," blurted Kenta hastily as Arcada marched up behind Saishi. "Be careful, she's got a gun!"

"He has the Master Ball," said Saishi even more quickly, turning to Arcada and pointing at Kenta. "Thank goodness you're here, tell him to hand it over!"

Kenta's heart rammed even faster as Arcada took his eyes off Saishi and focused his full attention on him. "Kenta!" said the captain loudly and passionately, looking at him in surprise. "You have it? Good work, my boy, excellent . . . I'll take over possession of it now. We have to get it out of here before things get any worse on this block!"

For a moment, Kenta considered calling Bolt out of the brush to deliver the precious ball over to his superior officer. After all, it was his civic duty, and it came as a natural impulse. But something was holding him back, and it wasn't just his own wish to see the Master Ball gone, either. The air between Captain Arcada and Ms. Saishi lacked the usual hostility of absolute police authority over lawbreaking civilian. Rather, it was as if police captain and Silph conspirator were actually cooperating. He stared at them for a moment, hesitating, then made up his mind and sealed his fate.

"Captain," he said in a reasoning, but insistent tone, "that woman was going to shoot me. She almost did, just now!"

"That's not important at the moment," answered Arcadia impatiently. "Right now, what's important is-"

"Not important?" demanded Kenta incredulously. "How can you say that? Don't you care if I live or die?!"

"Ms. Saishi's knowledge, and the Master Ball's power, can affect the world more than one cop's actions ever could," said Arcada sternly. "You did your duty, in seeing both safely out of Silph Corporation. Now it's time to move on!"

"Wha-?" Kenta stared at him, shocked, and his brain clicked. "Wait . . . how did you know I was guarding her? I didn't mention anything about that over the phone!"

Arcada looked taken aback, then resumed his stern face. This time, however, there was some pity in his voice, similar to how he'd sounded when he'd called Kenta at the stadium. "I'm sorry, Kenta," he said sadly. "I couldn't let you know anything. It might have affected Ms. Saishi's safety."

"What?"

"You can tell him later!" Saishi growled irately, her hand hovering over her shirt at the place where she'd stored her gun. "Just order him to give you the ball!"

"No!" shouted Kenta, unwilling to let Arcada's explanation be cut off. "I need to hear this! Continue!"


	14. Chapter 14

Arcada swallowed, then picked up as if he hadn't been interrupted. "We suspected for a while that Silph was planning to make illegal and unregistered Master Balls, to sell on the black market to bitter trainers affected by G.R.I.P.'s new policies on pokémon training. The timing would've been just right. But we couldn't find any incriminating evidence against the corporation, even when Ms. Saishi tipped us off. Therefore, we had no warrant for storming and take the building. So she agreed to feed information to one of our inspection teams while they were still inside the building, so that we'd have grounds for making arrests. In return, however, we had to offer her protection, so that her fellows wouldn't kill her before we could get her out of the building.

"That's where you come in, Kenta. Your rank isn't that great since you haven't been with the force long, but the records reveal your prestige as a pokémon trainer. You and Lieutenant Shin were to be led blindly into Ms. Saishi's presence, so that you could escort her back out of the building when she freed you again." Arcada lowered his head in apology. "We couldn't tell you, or you might not have acted your part right. I hope you will forgive me for being secretive. It was for a good cause."

Kenta didn't know how he took it all in. He felt he shouldn't have been able to swallow Arcada's words. Who could have accepted such an explanation so willingly?

 _Someone who's been suspicious of his government all along, that's who. This isn't shocking news, it's goddamn vindication!_

"Captain," he said slowly, angrily, through his teeth. "No offense, but you'd make a horrendous pokémon trainer." He glared at his commanding officer. "Do you have any idea how alone I felt back there?! A good team doesn't keep secrets. They think, and act, as one! When there's victory, the joy is shared amongst all, when there's terror, every team player shudders together, and when there's pain, not one member is numb to the agony." He pointed insistently to himself. "I joined this force because Silhouette was the most honest professional organization I could think of. I thought we were an absolute good in Japan. But how can I think that now . . ." He turned his glare to Saishi. "When you've just casually brushed off the fact that this woman was going to murder me?"

Arcada sighed and closed his eyes, then shook his head wearily. Reaching behind him, he pulled out his pistol and clicked it into loaded position. "You're too naïve," he said softly, then pointed the gun at Kenta's leg. "Now," he bellowed, with much more force than before, "enough with this insubordination! Stand down and deliver the Master Ball. This is an order, Sergeant Nyna!"

Kenta looked at him miserably, feeling betrayed, but not freshly betrayed. "I suppose you're not going to admit you want the Master Ball for your own power either," he murmured, turning away from his captain. "One way or another, you'll have it for yourselves." He tensed his body. "But I won't be the one to give it to you!"

Barely understanding what he was doing, moving on pure instinct, Kenta tore off down the alley for the bushes at the end. Behind him, he heard a scream of fury from Saishi. "No! My Master Ball! I won't let you get away!"

Then he heard a gunshot, and his mind registered excruciating pain in both his lower back and his stomach, on the right side of his body. Falling forward, but unable to do anything about it from shock, his upper torso crashed through the branches and leaves of the bushes, while his legs and feet remained visible on the outside. As his blood began to pool out from under the bush's leaves, Arcada and Saishi looked at each other in horror.

"You shot him."

"It had to be done."

"What if he's dead?"

"Then one of the Silph executives killed him."

" . . . . . . . . . hey, look at tha-!"

Bolt blasted out of the bushes at the two humans, a great blue blur, and smashed past both of them with his mighty Salamence wings extended. Arcada and Saishi were unconscious in a second's time, and their bodies were thrown backwards out of the alley and onto the sidewalk outside of the Silph Corporation building. Wheeling around and rushing back with a clap of his wings, Bolt returned to his alley and snatched Kenta up in his teeth. Holding him by the back of his uniform, the Salamence hauled his wounded trainer onto his back, then took off once more. Hovering through the lower allies of Saffron City at eighty miles an hour, Bolt finally increased altitude at city limits and soared eastward, with the sun at his back.

...

Both brothers sat for a moment in complete silence, their food being finished along with Kenta's story. Hibiki tried to look down at the place on Kenta's stomach where he'd been penetrated by a bullet, but the table was blocking it from view. He looked up at his big brother, his awe renewed by all that Kenta had been through. "How on earth did you survive?" he asked in a hushed voice. "After losing so much blood?"

Kenta shook his head very slightly, barely moving it from side to side. "I don't know," he murmured quietly. "It may have been raw willpower to live. The proper condition had been fulfilled."

"What condition?"

"I was shot by the right person." Kenta narrowed his eyes. "Arcada. My own chief."

Hibiki heard a humming noise coming from the other side of the table, and Kenta looked down at his pocket. "Phone's ringing," he said, pulling out a green cellular phone. Hibiki looked at it curiously. "Hey, that's not your old phone, is it?"

"Nope. Hello?"

"Hey, it's me," came Curtis's voice in Kenta's ear. "Uh, could you come over here real quick? We've got a problem."

Kenta's eyes widened. "The Master Ball isn't giving you trouble, is it?"

"No, it's not that, though that was a surprise," said Curtis in a nervous voice. "But we found out what the Master Ball's made of. Hurry over, okay?"

"Alright, but hold on." Kenta motioned to Hibiki to listen carefully, then annunciated his words very carefully into the speaker. "From now on, don't give your secrets to anyone who doesn't enter your house with a password. We need to be secretive, or the lot of us will likely be hauled off to prison again. And this time, it'll be much more serious."

He heard Curtis gulp. "If you say so. What's the password then?"

...

"Why that password?" asked Hibiki, as he and Kenta left the restaurant and began their short walk down the freezing street towards Kurt's house. "I mean, it's not that I don't like it, I'm just wondering."

"It's an antonym," said Kenta, already looking happier now that he was moving again. "It symbolizes our cause, like a good password should. Tell me, Hibiki, who are we against?"

Hibiki thought for a moment. "Silhouette?"

"Not them, but you're close. Think bigger."

" . . . G.R.I.P."

"Right!" Kenta shot him a thumbs-up and smiled. "The Government Restrictive Institute on Pokémon. They were the forerunners of this whole mess to begin with, and it's in their name that the government has stolen our pokémon away." His face darkened. "How appropriate, that the acronym spells out the status of Pokémon Japan. They've got a death-grip on every trainer in this country, and they're not letting go."

They had reached Kurt's doorstep. Kenta raised his voice. "That's why we demand a release!"

The sliding panel door opened, and Curtis poked his head out and looked at them. "Welcome back!" he said jubilantly, bidding them to come in with a swinging of his hand. "Thank you, thank you, thank you for getting Grandpa back! Maisy'll be so happy when I call her!"

"Well, it's about time you showed some gratitude for that," said Kenta in a grumpy voice, crossing his arms. Hibiki looked at him in horror, and immediately his face cracked. "Ha, ha, just kidding. How's Elder Kurt enjoying his freedom?"

Curtis poked a thumb at the work bench in the back of the room and smiled, rolling his eyes. Kenta shrugged, putting up his arms. "Of course. He's not happy unless he's working on something. There's a good man."

"Yep." Curtis turned and waved Kurt over, grinning. "Grandpa, take a break." He looked back at Kenta. "Hey, do you have the time?"

"Yeah, uh . . . it's 2:25. Why?"

"I reviewed the television guide earlier today. There's this thing that's airing once every three hours for the whole week, discussing how active pokémon holders are to train now. I figured you might want to take a look at it, and see for yourself what G.R.I.P. is expecting from Pokémon Japan. But before it comes on . . ."

Curtis lowered his voice. "I've still got something to ask you. What's this I hear about you wanting Grandpa to make as many Master Balls as he possibly can?"

Hibiki looked at Kenta expectantly. He himself had already known from earlier in the morning that a plethora of Master Ball duplicates was part of Kenta's plan, but he'd been flabbergasted by the news when he first heard it. Kenta gave Hibiki a reassuring nod, and motioned to the floor mats around a traditional Japanese ground-level table. "You guys may want to sit down."

It took Kenta about half an hour to discuss his reasons for needing Kurt to make as many Master Balls as humanly possible. Curtis made a few astonished interjections at Kenta's daring, but Kurt retained a face of silent awe. When he'd finished, the two pokeball-makers gave each other a lasting look of silent agreement, then gave Kenta a firm nod.

"I'm in. My years are many, and I've seen mostly everything there is to see. What can they hope to do to me at this point in my life, if they catch me?"

"And if I'm caught, I can always flee to America . . . joking! Joking!"


	15. Chapter 15

Kenta smiled at the two of them. "I appreciate it, you guys. I know this is risky, but we're not alone. Before long, we'll have more friends than this entire town can hold, even if they all stood shoulder-to-shoulder." He clasped his hands together tightly, determinedly, staring down at them as he thought about the long road ahead. "You'd be surprised how quickly a resistance can form when times are desperate. All you need is a common foe."

"You mean, like this one?" asked Curtis, flipping out a remote from his sleeve and pressing a button. The television came on, and Hibiki gave an involuntary grunt of anger at the man's face on the screen. It was Silvaki Kurisawa, the appointed head of G.R.I.P.

"-may think that pokémon training will be less worthwhile now that there are only two available spaces on your team," he was saying with a sympathetic smile, looking directly at the camera, at his home audience. "Let me assure you, however, that pokémon has never really been about catching 'em all, as the popular slogan went in the old days." He gave a short laugh. "I mean, come on . . . before the pokémon space bacteria spread to the Johto region, we only knew of a hundred and fifty pokémon, and some of them were merely considered mythical creatures for a while. Yet, can you imagine having to feed just twenty pokémon a day? How about forty? How about eighty? It's just ridiculous, how we used to think."

"Listen to his voice," grumbled Hibiki, glowering with fury. "Listen to how sleek he is. It's like this snake just shed his skin."

"Don't focus too much on one man," Kenta countered gently. "We're fighting an idea, not just one spokesperson. Before this is through, I suspect we'll see many more faces of G.R.I.P."

"My friends, you must have a different goal now," continued Kurisawa in his reasoning tone. "Rather than catching them all, you should be about battling them all! That's what pokémon do- they live to battle. And the minor restrictions we've placed on usable pokémon will make such a goal far more achievable. Don't worry- restricted pokémon are not gone forever! G.R.I.P. promises to have five zoos up and running before the end of this very year. Everyone, not just you- your mother, your father, your sister and brother, all will have a chance to see such magnificent pokémon as Sinnoh's Garchomp, and the Herron Region's Ungarmax."

"You know," observed Curtis, watching the T.V. with his arms crossed, "he's doing all the right things. You see how he's invoking family and friends? And he's promising that everyone'll have equality in getting to experience pokémon, trainer or not. He's really trying to make G.R.I.P.'s vision sound good, here."

"Yeah, but I wonder how he'll sugarcoat the fact that he's torn countless families apart," muttered Kenta through his teeth. "Every trainer's team is his family away from home. Bakuphoon gave me comfort that overcame my homesickness on the road. You can't get that sort of intimacy from just anyone."

"Kenta," said Curtis quietly, nervously, "no offense, but could you wait on that? Kurisawa's discussing catching policies now."

". . . Alright."

"Now, there's a method that you can use which is quite simple, when determining whether or not you should have a certain pokémon," Kurisawa was saying brightly, smiling in a similar fashion to the Dali Lama. "If your pokémon is the kind you'd naturally run across in the wild, such as a Mareep or a Weepinbel, then you're fine! On the other hand, if strange circumstances so happen to wind you up with, say, a Metagross, you should get it sorted out as soon as possible on our website. Make sure you do a thorough check on any suspected borderline pokémon, and you'll do just fine!"

As the website address appeared at the bottom of the screen, .gov, Kurisawa raised a finger and made a this-is-important face like the one Hibiki had seen his elementary school teachers often give him. "Be advised! There is one pokémon that is not in the uber category of forbidden candidates, but is still illegal to own by anyone without authorization. Also known for causing blackouts to minor cities, this pokémon is Magneton. For the reason just given-"

"Magneton!" repeated Kurt, looking suddenly overwhelmed. He glanced wildly at Curtis. "Turn that off!"

"O-okay." The picture of Magneton on the television screen went blank, and Kurt clapped a hand to his forehead. "Just think! Magneton. But it makes sense!"

Everyone looked at him, and Hibiki raised an eyebrow. "What makes sense, sir?" he asked, trying to sound polite. "Is Magneton special?"

"Well . . . yes, and no." Kurt held up Kenta's Master Ball in his hand, and all eyes turned to the forbidden object. Kurt cleared his throat. "Though I live in this little out-of-the-way town, I am not ignorant to the many pokeballs invented by designers over the years," he said importantly. "Other than the compound and expand mechanism, they're really not all that complex. The power of a pokeball comes from its magnetic potential."

"Magnetism?" said Kenta. "Is that really all there is to it?"

"Indeed. My family's been making pokeballs for almost a hundred years." Kurt held up one of his custom-made apricorn pokeballs: a Lure Ball. "Back in the nineteen-twenties, we didn't have much to work with other than natural materials like apricorn shells and magnetic rocks from the cave east of Azalea. Pokémon themselves are the ones that turn into energy when being sucked into pokeballs; the ball itself has nothing to do with that part. I mean, have you ever seen a regular cat go into a pokeball? It doesn't work.

"Anyway, the first pokeballs were so weak that their only purpose was to hold pokémon that were already tamed. Then as time went on, we eventually learned to make better magnets for the balls so they would stay snapped shut when activated, and temporarily turn off when the pokémon needed out. These were the electromagnets."

Kurt turned his head towards the television screen. "What's fishy about this is the fact that the most powerful electromagnet currently known to man is being dubbed a forbidden pokémon . . ." He again raised the Master Ball. "And meanwhile, the crowned jewel of the pokeball collection is made of something very much like Magneton!"

A heavy silence fell following Kurt's words as the meaning clicked, and Hibiki recalled what Kenta had remembered seeing and hearing back at Silph Corporation. _The trainers there used mostly Electrode and Magneton! Of course . . . it's so obvious now!_

"Hold on a second," said Kenta, suddenly looking horrified. "If this really is a Magneton, does that mean . . ." His eyes widened. "No! They can't! Are they killing pokémon just to turn them into balls?"

"Well, wait a minute," said Kurt, as Kenta leaped to his feet in alarm. "I didn't say your Master Ball necessarily was a Magneton. It just bears similar features in metallic structure."

"I still have to be sure!" Kenta hefted up Hibiki's backpack and darted into the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. The three remaining people at the table barely had time to exchange wondering glances when Kenta was back out, in his Brendan Birch clothes again. He turned his eyes gravely to Hibiki. "Put up your hood. We're going to Kanto!"

...

"Kenta, was this part of the plan?" Hibiki asked him sometime later, as the two brothers soared through the clouds of Kanto on Bolt's back. "We didn't suspect until just today that the Master Ball was a pokémon."

"The plan was originally to get the necessary raw materials for Kurt to make dozens of Master Balls with," Kenta shouted to him over the screaming of the passing wind. "But all that changes if it means killing innocent creatures. Silph probably could've made the Master Ball years ago, and their project may have only been halted by ethical dilemmas."

 _So we don't have a plan now_ , thought Hibiki nervously as they dropped lower towards a nearby mountain peak. _This is scaring me. We need to be thinking out loud here, or we might finally make the fatal blunder that gets us locked away before anything can happen!_

"Hey, bro," he said again, pulling Kenta's sleeve to hold his attention. "Sorry, but what makes you so certain that we need to be going this way?"

"Oh, just a little incident that happened not long after I got shot." Kenta looked down past Bolt's neck, at the ground far below. "Bolt, pull down here. You remember this spot, don'cha, boy?"

They were approaching a village nearby a great mountain to the north. A transmission tower was lodged in the mountain, and a pathway ran down from it and into the village. Bolt touched down just beyond the town's boundaries, and Hibiki shaded his eyes to get a clear look at the houses. Up above, he hadn't noticed it, but each and every building within the town had a long, metallic stick rising out of the highest part of the roof. He dismounted from Bolt's back, and automatically covered his mouth as the dust from the dirt road swirled around him. Kenta patted his Salamence on the head, tossed him a pokeblock, and gave him a quick salute. "Nice flying today, Bolt. You're going to sleep well tonight!"

Bolt munched the pokeblock happily, then raised his wings and looked at Kenta inquisitively. Kenta smiled. "There's a good soldier. Keep an eye in the sky, and let me know if you see any suspicious activity."

Hibiki again covered his face as Bolt took off once more, kicking up a dust storm in the process. He didn't lower his arms again until he felt Kenta's hand on his back, guiding him forward. "We have to keep moving," said Kenta, picking up a light jog. Hibiki kept with him, and looked once more at the town before them. Again, something had escaped his notice; a chain-linked fence surrounded the place on all sides, and only where the road led in was there an open gate. He turned to eyes to Kenta, and saw that he was smiling.

"On first impression, it may seem like these people don't like outsiders, but they're really very friendly. Welcome to Henna Villa, the town where everyone owns a jeep."

They passed through the gates, and Kenta looked around the village with relish. "This takes me back," he said, as they continued jogging past houses. "Ready for another story, Hibiki? It's relevant to what we're doing now."

"Uh, sure." You never did get to mentioning what happened to you after the Silph incident.

Kenta pointed at one of the random houses as they passed it, with a grayish-green cement wall. "This was the place where I was nursed back to health. I suppose I'll begin here."


	16. Chapter 16

Something was blocking air flow. Kenta couldn't breathe properly. Struggling for oxygen, he widened his mouth and thrashed wildly, pushing something heavy off his body. He heard a human shout of surprise, followed by a loud bump, and he opened his eyes and gasped for breath, heaving his chest up and down. Taking a first look at his surroundings through blurred eyes, he beheld a crumpled blanket around his ankles and two bedposts just above them. Turning and looking down to the left, he saw a young man with green-dyed hair, younger than him, but not by much. Kenta guessed he was about Curtis's age, a thought which calmed him a little bit, but not significantly. The two of them stared at each other, the bedroom dead silent, and the other boy spoke first, timidly.

"Uh . . . hi. Uh, sorry. My name's, uh, Lee. Yeah. Sorry."

"S-sure. I'm Kenta."

Kenta noticed that Lee had fallen back and his hand was crushing a carton of yogurt. On the floor, lying a little further away from him, was the lid. Lee picked it up hurriedly, and threw it in a nearby waste bin. "Sorry," he said again, not looking Kenta in the eye. "You've been out for three days, and I was worried that you'd die if you didn't eat anything. So, uh, I kind of tried feeding you some yogurt." He scratched the back of his head, looking embarrassed. "But you sorta choked on it, and almost died anyway."

"That's okay," said Kenta absently, looking around the bedroom. "I'm fine, now. But what am I doing- ouch!" He clutched his left shoulder; for some reason, it was stinging. Lee put up his hands, looking concerned. "Careful, now . . . you got an electrical burn there. And . . . on most of your upper torso."

"Burns?" Kenta looked down at his bare chest; he was bandaged from waist to shoulders in medical wrappings. Lee walked over to the end of the bed and picked a shirt off the floor. Kenta recognized it as the top of his officer's uniform. "So . . . are you a cop?" Lee asked him, pointing at the badge on the shirt's left breast pocket. Kenta nodded, distracted by the two bullet holes in the lower part where Arcada had shot him. They were miniscule, but they were there. Looking down at his stomach, Kenta searched for the bullet hole, but saw no sign of it except for a red patch. Against his better judgment, he poked the spot, but felt no piercing pain from it. Everywhere else on his chest, a dull burning caused him to ache, but not the gunshot wound.

"Alright . . . Sergeant Nyna," Lee said, reading Kenta's badge, "you're not from around here, are you?" He looked up at Kenta, smiling slightly. "I've never seen you before. Were you part of the unit that got driven back by the wild electric pokémon around these parts?"

Kenta looked at him, wondering what to answer, wondering what he was talking about, when his burns took control of his senses and he allowed himself to drop backwards on his pillow in pain. Lee clicked his tongue and shook his head, crossing his arms. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. What's with the police these days? Leaving their own man behind, when the going gets tough." 

"Excuse me, but where am I?" Kenta asked him, while trying to concentrate on his breathing and ignore the pain.

"Heh, you're in my room of course." Lee stopped and put a finger to his mouth. "Oh, you mean the town. This is Henna Villa! You probably haven't heard too much about us, because we're a recent settlement." He pointed out the window. "You can't see it from where you're lying, but we're here because of our transmission tower. There's a power plant east of here that generates electricity, but it can't really dish the power out that efficiently. Our tower directs the electricity throughout the Kanto region, all the way to the magnet train and beyond."

Lee turned back to Kenta, looking apologetic. "Unfortunately, that tower has made the electric pokémon around here a little crazy, ever since its finish. You won't be the first guy who's been zapped silly by a wild Raichu or Electabuzz. Or those darn Magnemite and Magneton," he said darkly. "Those ones are the worst. Being Steel-types makes them even more sensitive to the electric flow than the others."

The pain had diminished in his body somewhat, and Kenta risked sitting up again. He felt vulnerable, and for good reason. _I wonder if anybody else on the force knows I'm here,_ he thought nervously, as Lee watched him curiously. _If Arcada or anyone else from the government finds me, I'm done for._ He twitched involuntarily as another thought struck him. _The Master Ball! Does this kid know I have it?_

He was still wearing his uniform pants. Thinking quickly, Kenta pulled the heavy blanket back over his body, and hastily shoved his hand into his right pocket. His fingers touched the smooth, rounded surface of a pokeball, and he relaxed. _Alright, there's that. And . . . yeah, I've still got my lockpick, too._ He checked his other pocket. _Now, where's Bakuphoon's pokeball?_ He felt the hard, semi-smooth surface of a hole-dotted item, and by touch, he recognized it as Bolt's Everstone. No regular pokeball, and no Luxury Ball, either. Suddenly recalling the events preceding his loss of consciousness, Kenta once more rested his head against his pillow, sadly.

Lee looked over at him, with an anxious face. "Hey . . . are you okay, Officer? Should I go call someone?"

"No! No." For a third time, Kenta jerked himself upright, and endured another wave of agony from his stinging upper body. "I'll be okay."

 _Sheesh, I can't relax for a moment, here._

Putting his feet down on the floor, Kenta stood up from Lee's bed and gave him a sharp look. "Listen," he said firmly, "I appreciate you taking care of me, but you cannot tell anyone that I'm here. I have reasons for it, alright?"

The other boy gave a small nod, looking taken aback. "O . . . okay. So you're, like, a spy or something?"

"Something like that, you could say. Yeah."

 _Hmm, looks like I got lucky. This guy doesn't seem to have a clue about me. But what if he's not the only one?_

"Hey, uh, Lee. Do you live alone here?"

Lee smiled and shook his head. "I haven't got parents, but I wouldn't call it alone, with four hyperactive sisters in the house. Don't worry though, they won't come in here. I expect they'll leave my room well enough alone, at least until they're in middle school."

 _Oh, good, the others are just children. Well, then . . . maybe Lee can help me, now that I know he's not a threat._

Kenta returned Lee's smile and saluted him with a bowed head. "You seem like a good, upstanding citizen," he said brightly, trying to be as friendly to a total stranger as he knew how. "I won't take up you room any longer, but could I trouble you to show me around this place and tell me a little more about it? I'd be most grateful."

 _I have to gain back my bearings. And if possible, I need to find Bolt!_

Looking flattered to have been complimented by a police officer, Lee hurried to the door and opened it. "I'd be honored to show you my humble Henna Villa," he said happily, tossing Kenta his uniform jacket. "Just . . . put that on in case any of my sisters see you. Are you sure you're up to this, after just regaining consciousness?"

"Sure, I'm sure."

Five minutes later, the two of them were walking down the dust street of Henna Villa, with Kenta holding his police hat under his arm so it wouldn't attract attention. He listened carefully as Lee explained the way of life of the mountain town.

"Over there's the village pub, _Soca's_. It's actually a pretty family-friendly place, and all the travelers who pass through this area stop there to eat. See how there's nothing but jeeps in the parking lot? Everyone here owns a jeep because the terrain is so rough. In these parts, you pretty much have to stick to the dirt road wherever you go, or risk getting flipped right over. It's awful when there's something on the path, let me tell you. Especially if it's an electric pokémon! Those things are simply bat-crap insane because of that tower we built. But what can I say? Kanto needs that thing."

"How come there are lightning rods on all the houses?"

"Oh, we get lots of thunderstorms. And sometimes, during the more nasty ones, some people say they see a giant flying creature of some sort hovering overhead, flapping golden spiked wings. You're not safe with just one lightning rod, when that thing's around. They need to be everywhere."

Lee cringed. "Those damn Magnemite and Magneton, they come even more often than thunderstorms, though. I can't tell you how many times a civilian was nearly zapped, when a nearby lightning rod avert the path of electricity. One time, my youngest sister was nearly hit . . ." His face darkened. "And if she had been hurt, I would've taken a sledgehammer to those Magneton and . . . and . . ." His shoulders drooped and he hung his head. "And gotten my brains fried by two hundred volts. Who am I kidding?"

 _Wow. These things really are a problem,_ thought Kenta. He avoided eye contact with Lee. "And . . . you say that my police force couldn't get them to quit?"

"Nope. They came with their K-9 Growlithe force and tried burning them back, but the Magneton just pushed right through the flames and electrocuted them all. We even tried training this area's Rock-type pokémon to drive them away. Nothing works. I'm beginning to think they're immortal."

They were standing on the eastern outskirts of Henna Villa, overlooking a steep hill which sloped down into a valley of tall grass. Much of the grass was blackened, probably from the harsh battle that had taken place in the valley not long ago. Kenta looked at Lee, and noticed a hint of fear in his eyes. "That's where they live," he said softly, pointing with his finger. "And I'll tell you now, there is no sight in the world more terrifying than Magnemite and Magneton suddenly materializing out of the grass, and flying right at you in a massive swarm of electric death."

The last word, "death," gurgled and faded in his throat, but Kenta could tell what he meant. In his stomach, he felt queasy for Bolt's safety. Just knowing his dragon friend was somewhere amongst a swarm of insane Electric-type pokémon unnerved him nearly to panic state. Kenta turned to Lee and pointed up the mountainside, at the dirt road leading to the highest part of the mountain. "Thank you for everything," he said with a quick smile, trying not to sound hasty. "For taking care of me, for the tour, and for that warning. I want to see your tower up close, before I return to where I came from. If I ever get a chance, I'll come back and repay you for your kindness."

"Wait!" Lee put out his hand as Kenta turned away from him. "Look- you're still hurt. At least come back to _Soca_ 's pub for a meal later. An hour, okay?"

 _Well . . . after all he's done for me, I can't say no. Hopefully an hour will be long enough to find Bolt._

" . . . Alright. Don't worry, Lee, I'll return in one piece."


	17. Chapter 17

Lee checked his watch. It had been an hour and five minutes since he'd let Kenta go off by himself, and he already felt foolish for doing it. Cop or no cop, he wouldn't stand a chance if the local electric pokémon did decide to attack him. How much longer could he, Lee, sit in _Soca's_ and wait like this? Looking up from his watch, he nearly leaped out of his skin when he saw that Kenta was standing next to him, leaning on the table. The latter grinned cheekily.

"Sorry I'm late."

"It's fine. Glad to see you're not dead."

"I anticipate hearing that a lot."

"What?"

"Oh, nothing." Kenta slid into the seat opposite from Lee, and looked around the inside of the pub. It seemed like a typical restaurant for the most part, with families of four and five chatting busily away at their own tables, but there was a rowdy din coming from further in the back. Leaning to the side a little, Kenta spotted the source- a giant of a man was sitting on his stool in front of a bar, laughing uproariously and waving around a great mug of beer in his right hand. Kenta's police impulses immediately kicked in, and he wondered if he would have to step in if the man happened to be an angry drunk. But he stopped himself, realizing with some regret that he wasn't really an officer anymore. Instead, he turned his attention back to Lee, pointing subtly at the big man.

"He seems to be having a swell time."

"Oh, that guy." Lee rolled his eyes. "That man's name is Boris. He's a hiker who lumbered in here about five days ago. Apparently, the guy goes from town to town, challenging people to pokémon battles and spending his winnings on booze. Kind of depressing, if you ask me."

Kenta looked back at Boris, feeling less annoyance and more pity for the man now. _On the move all day, and hitting the bottle all night, huh? It's . . . almost as if he's trying to escape from something. I wonder if a bad memories haunt that guy . . ._

"So he collects money for winning battles, you say? What about if he loses?"

Lee made an ugly face. "Boris happens to be a TM move tutor. He doesn't pay money for losing; he agrees to teach the victor a special move. We happen to need that very move, and badly, because of its usefulness against the Magnemite and Magneton. But the trainers of Henna Villa aren't seasoned enough, and he's beaten all of his challengers so far."

Kenta raised an eyebrow, interested. "Is that so? What move is it?"

...

"Hey. Boris!"

"Hmmmm?"

The enormous hiker swiveled slowly around in his chair, holding his mug carefully so that nothing would spill, and stared somewhat blearily down at Kenta. He leaned himself lower so that he was almost face level with Kenta. "What can I do for you, b-*urp!*- buddy?" he belched, swaying slightly with a silly grin on his face.

Kenta pointed a thumb at himself. "I hear you're a pokémon trainer. Well, I'm one too!" he declared, pumping his chest up. "If you're up to it, I challenge you to a battle!"

 _I hope I sound childish enough_ , he thought, clenching his fist. _I need this guy to say yes._

Boris gave a guffawing laugh, then raised his mug and drained the rest of the beer in one drink. Banging it down on the counter and breathing an "aaah!" of satisfaction, he dropped onto his feet from the stool and stood towering over Kenta. "Got any money, kid?" he asked with a smile. "I could always use some more of that!"

"No, I don't have any money . . ." Kenta reached into his pocket and pulled out his grayish-blue rock. "But I will stake this."

"What's that?"

"An Everstone." Kenta tossed the stone between his hands. "Did you see the news? Soon they'll be banning every pokémon that's considered too powerful for ordinary trainers. You may want to hold on to this, just in case one of your pokémon is about to evolve into something overly-strong."

At this, Boris laughed even harder and louder, causing a few heads at some tables to turn. The hiker paid them no heed. "All of my pokémon are already overly-strong, evolved or not!" he bellowed gleefully. "But if you really want to battle, I suppose I could just sell your stone later. Consider this one on me!"

 _It doesn't sell for much, but now's not the time to be saying that._

"Okay, then." Kenta leaned closer to Boris's bearded face, so that only he would hear. "Meet me on the eastern outskirts of the town. I'll take you, there."

In less than ten minutes, the two trainers were out of _Soca's_ and standing apart, facing one another with the mountain atmosphere looming around them. Boris widened one of his pokeballs and gave it a hefty throw, wearing the same silly smile from when Kenta had met him. "Alrighty! Go get them, Machoke!"

A gray, humanoid pokémon with the face of a stubby-snouted alligator appeared in a burst of light, arms outstretched as though ready to tussle. Kenta put his fingers to his mouth and blew, sending a shrill whistle echoing through the mountains. From behind a colossal rock formation to his right, a bolt of red and blue shot up into the sky. A moment later, it thudded to the ground in front of Kenta, causing a slight tremor in the earth which shook his balance. From the opposite side of the battlefield, Boris gave a low whistle and scratched his beard excitedly.

"Well now, that's a pretty big animal, isn't it?" he called to Kenta. "I don't think I've ever seen one of those before. How's its battling ability?"

"You'll see," muttered Kenta, his mind flashing to Lee. _This isn't just for you, but for everyone in your village. You gave, and now you'll get back._

"Bolt! Use Dragonbreath!"

"Crush! Dash straight through it!" roared Boris in response.

Bolt opened his mouth wide and blasted out a firestorm of green flames. The Machoke rushed straight into the pillar of fire, holding up its arms in a cross to protect its face. "Now!" came Boris's shout, "Cross Chop!"

"Hold strong!" barked Kenta, his entire body tense and alive, no longer feeling the pain of the burns.

Machoke pulled its arms tight in a scissor-chop, and smashed both sides of Bolt's face with the incredible power of two Karate Chop attacks. An impulse commanded Kenta to cringe, but he resisted bitterly. He'd long since learned from Bakuphoon that to falter even for a moment from empathized pain was dangerous to the pokémon's health. The trainer had to take mental blows and bear them quietly, no matter how horrifying. To the ignorant onlooker, it might appear that the trainer was cold and indifferent to his pokémon's pain. Those within the relationship, however, knew the real truth. And it was about to pay off.

"We've got you now!" cheered Boris heartily. He stopped short as Bolt's great jaws slammed together on his Machoke's arms, causing it to roar in pain. "On the contrary," called Kenta, "we've got you. Bolt, time for Fly!"

The enormous Salamence wings billowed out, and a moment later, the two pokémon combatants were gone in a storm of scattering dust. Kenta watched Bolt rise at a vertical angle, then twist and corkscrew in a spinning arc, the Machoke still hanging helplessly from his mouth. As they dove back towards the ground at a furious speed, Bolt let go of Machoke's arms and curved his flight at level with the ground. Machoke slammed onto the dirt road with the force of a falling comet, still spinning, and slowed to a stop at an awkward body angle. The swirls in its eyes proved that it would not be getting back up.

"Crush!" cried Boris, looking absolutely stunned at the result of Bolt's deadly work. "Are you okay? Speak to me!"

"Ma . . . . . choke . . ."

Bolt landed beside Kenta, giving him a look that seemed to ask "how did I do?" Kenta beamed at his hardworking Salamence and patted Bolt's neck. "For someone who only recently gained his wings, you're one hell of a flier already," he said approvingly. "But how's your jaw? That was quite a hit you took."

Bolt's lips parted into an intimidating smile that showed all his gleaming teeth, and Kenta nodded, understanding. "Ah, I get it. You've got a new special ability now, don't you? Just in time, too."

Both of them looked over at Boris, who'd just recalled his beaten Machoke into its pokeball. He looked distinctly more serious, now. "That's quite a tough 'un you've got there," he boomed, holding up a second pokeball. "Is that supposed to be one of them illegal pokémon you were talking about?"

"Bolt's not illegal yet," said Kenta, smiling humorlessly. _And when he is, they're not getting him like they took Baku. I swear to that._

"Whatever you call him, he's still just practice!" bellowed Boris, tossing his next pokeball. "Show 'em what you got, Spike!"

In a flash of white light, Boris's next pokémon appeared; a Pupitar. Something occurred to Kenta, and he held up his hands in a "t" sign. "Woah, hold on a second! Time out." He pointed to his Salamence. "Bolt's the only pokémon I use, now. I thought this was a one-on-one battle!"

"You should've said something beforehand, then," Boris replied, crossing his arms resolutely. "The winner is whoever's still got a pokémon left to use. That'll be me!"

Bolt gave a deep-throated growl, and Kenta's eyes narrowed. "We'll see about that."


	18. Chapter 18

Kenta turned and looked behind him, down into the grassy valley. Out in the field's distance, a massive rustling of tall grass signified a large-scale movement in his direction. Remembering his last encounter with a Magneton from a few days back, Kenta hurriedly returned his attention to Boris. "We're out of time!" he said forcefully. "This match'll have to be called a draw. Here's your Everstone-" He pulled the rock from his pocket once more and strode to the giant hiker's side, thrusting it into his hand. "Now do the right thing and teach my Salamence that move!"

Boris looked away stubbornly. "Not happening," he said gruffly. "You haven't beaten us, so you don't get nothin'."

" . . . Fine." Kenta turned to Bolt. "Keep yourself safe." He rushed towards Lee, who was bidding him to hurry with a furiously waving hand. "We'll do this another time. For now, we need to get to safety!"

Kenta waited impatiently as his bearded opponent jogged a couple yards to catch up with him, then stumbled and fell over. He and Lee rushed to Boris's sides and hauled him to his feet, and the hiker gave a whine of frustration. "Dagnabbit! This ground's too unsteady, even for me. What's with this place?"

Kenta and Lee looked at each other, and Kenta shook his head. "Lost his footing. You know what? I think he's had too much to drink." The two of them turned and glanced down at the field in the distance, and Kenta gasped softly as the first few Magneton burst out of the tall grass before his eyes. Lee gritted his teeth. "Tch! They're coming too fast. How're we going to get this boozer back to town before they're on us?"

"All right. All right." Boris looked wearily at Kenta, a defeated look in his eyes. "You win, laddie. I'll teach your dragon my special move. It's the only thing that can contest pokémon of those types at this point."

Now dozens of Magnemite and Magneton were approaching, and a yellow aura surrounded the swarm as electricity sparked and zapped around them. Kenta felt his heart pound faster; it was easily possible that he and his companions could be electrocuted to death in mere moments.

 _This guy had better know what he's doing._

...

Having made it through Henna Villa, Kenta and Hibiki now continued along the dirt path leading east. Kenta pointed up ahead for his to see brother, where the terrain took a steep dive downwards. "That's where it happened. Right on that spot."

"So did you win?"

"Win? Oh, no." Kenta waved his hand, as if brushing off a stupid question. "Boris was too wasted, and Bolt failed to learn the move on time. The Magneton swarmed over us, and everyone except Boris's Pupitar got zapped to death where we stood."

"Oh." Hibiki lowered his head, horrified at what he'd just heard. Then his mind caught up with Kenta's statement.

" . . . You ass."

Kenta snickered, grinning from ear to ear with a rogue smirk. "Ha, ha, you actually believed me for a second! See, this is why I like having you around."

"Not cool," grumbled Hibiki. "What really happened?"

"Heh, heh, heh." Kenta took a moment to compose himself, then cleared his throat. "Sorry. In the end, Bolt learned the super move, and every Magneton coming at us did a U-turn after feeling the force of a Salamence's strength. It's like Champion Lance always says: you don't mess with a dragon. Oh, and speak of the devil-"

Hibiki was amazed at how fast Bolt returned. One moment he was a speck in the distant sky, and the next, he was right on top of the two trainers. With a great flap of his wings, Bolt halted his forward momentum, and Hibiki was nearly blown off his feet from the resulting blast of wind.

Kenta's former smile was gone, and his body tensed as he readied for action. "What'd you spot, Bolt?" he asked sharply. "Is there some sort of trouble up ahead?"

The Salamence nodded. Kenta's eyes narrowed. "Can we afford a head-on? Or do we go covert?"

Bolt lowered his head and flattened his wings. Kenta nodded and faced Hibiki, who wore the same wide-eyed look he always did when his brother surprised him. "Break's over, Hibiki. Keep low. We're going to move forward, quickly and stealthily, until we can see what we're up against. Time to move."

Without another word, he knelt into a crouching posture and shot forward, moving quickly over the slope and downhill into the grassy valley below. Hibiki followed him, feeling highly uncomfortable at the idea of rushing straight into danger. He didn't speak until the two of them had planted themselves behind a nearby boulder a few seconds later, when Kenta had waved him over.

"Kenta! What if we run into a crazed Magneton in the grass or som-"

"Ssh! Keep your voice down." Kenta pointed around the side of their boulder. "Check that out. We won't be going into the tall grass."

Hibiki looked. The dirt road ran down the incline and into the valley, but it curved to the left just before reaching the tall grass. Parked around the spot of the curve were three patrol cars and one enormous sixteen-wheeler truck. Standing a few feet away, a group of police officers were pointing and shouting at someone standing opposite of them; a young man with spiked gray hair. Even as Hibiki watched, the officers threw pokeballs out in front of them, and the young man did the same. From the cops' side, pokémon emerged from their capsules, which Hibiki recognized as a Sandslash, Growlithe, Graveler, another Sandslash, a Dugtrio, and another Growlithe. The young man's opposing pokémon was a metallic bird with sharp wings, which Hibiki identified as a Skarmory.

"Looks like a scuffle between the police and some college-age kid," whispered Hibiki, glancing up at Kenta. "But why would he challenge six officers like that? He can't possibly hope to win against those numbers!"

Hibiki was about to say something else, but he forgot everything as he noticed Kenta's expression. He was standing stock-still, eyes wide and staring, mouth slightly ajar with bewilderment. "Maybe he can," Kenta barely whispered. "I can't believe it. Do you know who that man is?"

Hibiki shook his head slowly.

"He championed the Hoenn League until about three years ago. He was a prodigy with Steel-type pokémon! What's he doing all the way out here?"

Steven Stone.

In a moment, Kenta darted out from behind their boulder and was charging straight down the slope before Hibiki knew it. "Stay there!" he called to Hibiki as he went, putting two fingers in his mouth. Hibiki heard him whistle, and an overhead draft suddenly pushed his body down with its force. Bolt's shadow swept under his feet, and Hibiki watched in fear and helplessness as trainer and pokémon rushed to Steven's side.

Kenta skidded to a halt between the two parties about to battle, his hands up in a gesture to keep anyone from doing anything. "Hold up!" he panted, as the wind from his sprint vanished from his gut. "What's . . . going on?"

 _So much for going covert._

Nobody spoke for a second, then one of the officers pointed at Kenta. "Look at that. Did he have reinforcements?"

"Brendan!" cried Steven, looking stunned. "What are . . . what are you doing here?!"

Kenta leaped backwards so that he was at Steven's side, and looked him full in the face. "Quickly," he said hurriedly, "I need to know what you're doing here first!"

Steven stared at him. "Wait . . . you're not Brendan Birch."

"There'll be time for that later. Why are you fighting them?"

"Hey! You!" One of the police officers pointed angrily at Kenta. "Get out of here! Celebrity or not, that man is interfering with official business. Stand down at once!"

"They're burning the wild Magneton out here!" Steven shouted back furiously. "After already fighting them unconscious! It's euthanasia!"

Kenta lost feeling in his body. For a moment, all he could feel was a dull tingle running up and down his arms and legs.

 _No . . ._

"These creatures are a hazard to the lives of every citizen in Henna Villa!" barked another officer. "For as long as they live, these Magneton will continue to return and wreak havoc. This is the only way to stop them for good!"

"Just because they don't look like other animals doesn't make them any less of living things!" cried Steven in return. "Steel-types have always been looked upon without pity, because they resemble machines. I've seen it all! I know the cruelty of you people!"

"Enough of this," snapped the first officer. "Graveler. Use Rock Throw on his Skarmory!"

"Sandslash, Slash attack!"

"Dugtrio, Rock Slide!"

In a moment's time, three attacks were shooting straight at Steven's pokémon, and that's when Kenta regained himself.

"BOLT!"

Skarmory wheeled and dodged to avoid its enemy's offenses, but Kenta could hear scrapes and clangs as claws and rocks smashed against the bird's steel flesh. They were loud at first, but in a second, they were considerably softer. It was as if the enemy was holding back for some reason.

Steven turned his head, looking astonished at Kenta's action. "What in the . . . ?"

Bolt was hovering right over Kenta's head, wings fully extended, bearing claws and fangs, and uttering a deep-throated growl full of threat. His Intimidate ability had kicked in, and on the opposite side, the Ground-type pokémon cowered back in fright at their immense new foe.

"I see you've got friendly intentions," muttered Steven from beside Kenta, shooting him a quick smile. "I'll take the offensive, then." He turned his attention back to the battle. "Aim for the Graveler, Skarmory! Steel Wing!"

Kenta didn't see the attack hit. Skarmory was suddenly gone, and the boulder pokémon on the opposite side was flung backwards by seemingly nothing, with chips of stone flying from its hide. Just like that, Graveler was down, and the officer recalled his beaten pokémon with a grunt of fury.

"No matter," said another of the uniformed men, pointing at Skarmory. "We don't need physical attacks. Growlithe, Flamethrower!"

"Growlithe, Overheat!"

 _Time to unleash that special move . . ._

"Do it, Bolt!" Kenta shouted, bracing himself. " _Earthquake!_ "


	19. Chapter 19

Even as the flames licked from the Growlithes' mouths, Bolt shot up high into the sky, then bulleted down with all the force of a five-ton bomb. Skarmory wheeled around the Flamethrower attack, but the other Overheat struck it full on, lighting the bird in an orange glow from the absolute heat. That was when Bolt smashed the ground on all fours, sending a shockwave through the earth that rattled everything within a fifty-foot diameter. Kenta jumped as high as he could to avoid the tremor, and waved his arms frantically as he came back down and felt the ground continue to quake. When it had ceased after about ten seconds, he looked up from his feet to see what damage had been caused. Last time it had been devastating; about sixty or seventy Magneton were jumbled so badly by the tremor that they had disassembled from relentless rattling.

This time, the results were lesser, but still deadly. Both Growlithe were lying on their sides, their tongues hanging out, shaken into submission. The enemy Dugtrio was also down; its three heads were slumped to the ground, and swirls of defeat were present in all six eyes. Still standing, but on all fours with shaking limbs, were the two Sandslash.

Kenta checked beside him, concerned for Steven's Skarmory. The metallic bird was still up in the air, glowing from its last devastating attack, but holding on with a grimace. Kenta let himself relax momentarily. _It's good my teammate was using a Flying-type,_ he thought grimly. _He's taken enough damage without Earthquake's raw power tacked on._

The officers made shouts of angry exclamation, and Kenta heard one mutter something to the effect of "this is why they shouldn't have taken our guns." One of the Growlithe trainers pulled out his pokeball and recalled his fallen canine, then looked to his colleagues. "Fall back," he instructed. "Guard the package." The others nodded and recalled their beaten pokémon, then turned and raced for their patrol cars.

Steven turned hastily to Kenta, looking alarmed. "They must mean that truck!" he exclaimed, pointing as the entire squad of cars gunned their engines almost synchronously. "That's where they've thrown all the Magneton they slaughtered. They must have over a hundred in there!"

 _So that's how we beat them so easily_ , thought Kenta. _They were fighting Magneton before I got here. They must be low on pokémon power!_

"Skarmory, return." Steven held out a pokeball and withdrew his scalded bird into a beam of red light. He glared furiously as the squad cars took off, with three in front of the holding truck and three behind. "Damn it. All I've got left is my Aggron, and he's not fast enough to catch them. They're going to get away!"

"No they won't," gritted Kenta, thinking quickly. _I can't just have Bolt bust open that truck, because what'll we do then? Knock out six cops and the truck driver? Never . . . I will NOT stoop to criminal actions! There has to be a better way!_

His eyes turned to Steven, and suddenly- an epiphany struck him.

"Say . . . does your Aggron happen to know Dig?"

...

The police truck driver noticed that all three cars in front of him were slowing down. He strained his eyes and searched ahead, wondering what could be the problem. He soon saw for himself; something was in the dirt road, taking up the whole driving space and then some. It was black and white, and absolutely enormous; possibly one of the biggest land animals he'd ever seen in his life. But why would there be one here of all places? And why now, of all times?

Kenta and Hibiki watched from behind a rocky outcrop as the squadron of police vehicles inched to a complete halt. Hibiki glanced down at the Everstone in his hand, which until a few minutes ago, had been strung around his Munchlax's neck. He looked uncertainly at Kenta, who was still watching the dirt road with intense interest.

"Bro?"

"Yeah?"

"I understand that it couldn't be helped, when Bolt evolved, but . . . but we removed an Everstone deliberately, this time. We're lawbreakers, no matter how you look at it."

Kenta shook his head, watching as the police blared their horns in an attempt to scare his brother's new Snorlax off the road. "The law should be for the benefit of all the people under it," he answered adamantly. "Not for the few people with the power. Ah, right on time-"

Hibiki looked. The six police officers and the truck driver had gotten out of their cars to go push Snorlax out of the way. Below the truck, out of sight to anyone not looking, the ground pushed up and a metallic horned head appeared. Hibiki watched as Steven's Aggron raked the underside of the truck with its Metal Claw attack, easily cutting through the softer metal with its power. The steel behemoth of a pokémon hastily began hauling limp Magneton from the hole and pulling each and every one underground. So far, Kenta's plan was going amazingly smooth. The police apparently hadn't even noticed the single loud scrape of Metal Claw, from all their yelling to move Snorlax. Feeling he could relax for the moment, Hibiki looked back at Kenta, wanting to return to the issue of being a lawbreaker.

"Even if you say that . . ."

"I know. I know." Kenta looked at Hibiki sadly, with a defeated expression on his face. He heaved a sigh. "I hope this is the last time we have to make exceptions. From here on out, we go straight whenever we can." His eyes hardened. "But I have my priorities. When the time comes, I WILL choose the Greater Law."

"The Greater Law?" echoed Hibiki, curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Love." Kenta's eyes burned passionately as he spoke the one word. "No law is higher than a heartfelt relationship. The bond shared between a pokémon and its trainer is exactly that; a love with all your heart, soul, mind and strength. It's what allows us to endure in battles, when strategy has been stretched to its limit. It's what makes us do things that the rest of the world may deem strange, such as sacrificing your own life for another."

Kenta lowered his head. "That's what Baku was willing to do for me, up to the very last time we saw one another," he whispered, his eyes brimming. "He threw himself in front of an exploding Electrode, to make sure I wouldn't get hurt. Greater love has no one than that. I don't deserve him. I really hope they're treating him well, right now."

Hibiki had never seen his brother shed tears before. This in itself was no great surprise, since Kenta probably believed that letting Hibiki see him like this would destroy his macho image. But right now, thought it might have been because of the pressure that Kenta was under, Hibiki still felt distinctly moved by his brother's show of tenderness. Over their past few hours together, Kenta had seemed little other than cold and formal with his pokémon. For Hibiki, it was good to know that he wasn't really like this at heart.

The brothers took a moment to glance down at Aggron's hole, but where the steel beast had been working before, there was now only a cover of overturned soil. Kenta sniffed loudly, hastily wiped an arm across his face, then stood up with a set expression. "Right," he said, reaching into his pocket, "time to move Snorlax out of their path. Hibiki, remind me to make more pokeblocks after this." He tossed the red candy cube as hard as he could, and it landed and rolled a dozen or so yards away from Snorlax. Noticing the brightly-colored snack, Snorlax hefted himself to his feet with a deep grunt and pounded eagerly towards the pokeblock, sending the officers and pokémon who'd been pushing him toppling into the dirt. The policemen looked at each other, baffled, and one shrugged. "Looks like he's distracted. Let's move quickly, in case he comes back."

Not wasting another minute, the cops hurried back into their patrol cars and gunned the engines, all taking off at once in a great dust cloud. Kenta and Hibiki watched them until they had become specks in the distance, and only then did they crawl out of hiding. Kenta strode to the road-spot of freshly dug-up soil and stomped his foot beside the hole cover. "It's okay," he called into the ground, "they're gone. Open up." They waited for a couple of seconds, and then Aggron's horns popped out from below the road, followed by his head. The gray-haired head of Steven Stone also appeared a moment later, turned the wrong way. He twisted around, looking up at Kenta and Hibiki with a somber expression.

"No survivors. I couldn't even spark one of them back to life."

"I'm sorry," said Hibiki softly, and Kenta lowered his head in respect for the dead. Steven's expression turned slightly colder. "So, 'Brendan,' I did what you told me," he said in a flat voice. "Now that we have them all lumped together in this grave down here, tell me what we've gained from this. No-" He put out his hand as Kenta opened his mouth. "First, before anything else, tell me who you really are."

Hibiki looked at Kenta, wondering what he was going to do. He would need to make a habit out of lying if he planned on staying alive, but this was different. Steven had helped them. Feeling his head nod, Hibiki realized he was subconsciously urging his brother to do the right thing. Kenta glanced at him, sighed softly, and looked back at Steven.

"My name is Sergeant Kenta Nyna. I was last in service two months ago during the Silph Incident, and the only police officer reported dead. Only a handful of people know that I'm alive right now, including you as of this moment."

Steven's lips stretched into an oval shape as his eyes widened, and he muttered a quiet "oh." Kenta proceeded to explain everything else to him, leaving out the sentimental bits and staying as practical as he could. From the reason he was dressed like Brendan Birch, to the password for getting to Kurt, to the Master Ball replication plan, Kenta explained in as short an order as he knew how. Hibiki listened closely, having heard it all before, but still finding merit in how everything was steadily coming together.

"So that's why we need these Magneton," Kenta finished, putting out his arms in a reasoning gesture. "Since they're dead anyway, Kurt can examine them to see if they're Master Ball material. If it turns out they are, well . . ." He looked away, sadly. "The plan isn't ruined, but it'll be hindered."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: It's good to see that so many of you guys keep coming back. Again, if you liked this, you'll probably like "Dragon Riders: Kaze No Kaeru" by NightDragon0. I'm still uploading it in daily parts to YouTube, with audio reading and music.

...

Steven and Aggron sat across from him, rapt with attention, looking horrified. Kenta swallowed with difficulty, knowing the next question would be painful to ask. Taking a deep breath, he forced it out. "Steven, please . . . seeing as to how these Magneton have all passed on, won't you let us turn them into Master Balls if they are the right material?"

The former Hoenn champion stared at him with a look of mingled disbelief and suspicion. Kenta cringed on the inside. "I don't like doing it," he continued determinedly, "but it's essential. And I swear, even if it's not enough, I will never kill a Magneton or any other pokémon to harvest its power."

Steven closed his eyes, and Kenta could hear a gurgle in his throat. It was clear that the other man was experiencing some inner moral struggle. "Why," he finally asked, "should I believe you?"

"Please."

Kenta and Steven turned and looked at Hibiki, who was kneeling before the former champ. "You saw what the military police were doing to the Magneton," he pleaded. "They won't even reason with you. In today's world, you can't put faith in your own government anymore. Where are your other pokémon?" He pointed to the hulking Aggron, and Skarmory's pokeball on Steven's belt. "Or are those your only two?"

Steven said nothing for a minute. When he spoke again, it was without looking at the Nyna brothers. "They're going back to the wild," he muttered halfheartedly. "Cradily, Armaldo, and Claydol. They're going to be free."

"That may or may not be," stated Kenta, softly. "Either way, I notice you left one out. Tell me, what about your world-renowned Metagross? I hear Brendan was one of the only two people to ever beat it in battle."

"They say he's in good hands," replied Steven, refusing to make eye contact. Kenta and Hibiki exchanged glances. "Can you be sure of that?" asked Kenta, praying he wasn't sounding pushy or paranoid. "If you saw him again, would you two even recognize each other?"

"Of course I'd recognize him!" barked Steven angrily. "He has a vertical scar down his left eye. It's his proudest battle wound."

"No, no. I mean, by behavior." Kenta addressed Steven grimly. "Team Rocket and Cipher both tried- and succeeded- in making their pokémon artificially more aggressive than they could ever naturally be. Have you ever seen the movie, Jacob's Ladder? I'm not saying our own government would do that, but think about it. Why would they suddenly decide to collect a massive amount of powerful animals, which are trained to follow orders without question? Forget what they said about trainer safety for a moment. Our pokémon trainers are safe- now what? Where is all this power going? How will it be channeled?"

"You say it like I haven't already thought it through," accused Steven. "I've been to pokémon rehabilitation before. I know it works. Every powerful pokémon released to the wild doesn't forget its trainer. They won't hurt any other humans. They'll act as ambassadors between us and untamed pokémon. That is how their power will be used."

Silence elapsed for another minute. Hibiki looked at Kenta; the latter appeared to be doing some deep thinking, by his distant expression. Steven didn't wait long, but stood up and turned to his Aggron. "Come on," he murmured. "Let's go home."

"After everything I've told you, is that all you have to say?" Kenta asked, sounding stunned and a little hurt at Steven's lack of empathy. Steven recalled his Aggron into its ball, still not looking at either of them. "I will not reveal to anyone, who you are," he declared firmly. "If you get caught and punished for treason because of me, it'll feel like your blood is on my hands. And I don't want that, in case you happen to be right." Steven shook his head. "I hope you're wrong. But after what I've seen and heard today, I need to be by myself to think."

"It seems to me like you already made up your mind earlier," said Kenta, as Skarmory reappeared out of Steven's other pokeball. "I can only wonder how you knew that Silhouette would be coming here today to attack the Magneton of the Henna Villa area. You were certainly prepared to oppose them then."

"For all I know, you could've been there for the same reason they were," Steven shot back, mounting his metallic bird. "I don't know whose side to take anymore. But in any case, do what you want with the Magneton buried here. Desecrate their bodies. I can't stop you in my present condition. Your Salamence knows Earthquake."

"I'm not your enemy!" called Kenta insistently, as Steven and his Skarmory lifted off the ground.

But Steven was off, soaring away from the roadside scene at forty miles an hour. Kenta and Hibiki stood in silence and watched him go, until they could no longer see him. Heaving a sigh, Kenta reached into his pocket and drew out his green cell phone. "Well, in spite of all that, this still turned out better than I dared hope," he said sadly, dialing Kurt's number.

"How?" asked Hibiki, watching him press the buttons.

"How? Hibiki, we now know those police were shipping dead Magneton. It might not be proof to anyone else, but it's proof to us that they're using these creatures for their bodies. If all goes well, this might completely vindicate us later . . . hello, my friend."

As Kenta spoke to the old apricorn craftsman over the phone, Hibiki pulled out his Heavy Ball and recalled his new Snorlax. Kenta's Salamence knew how to hide, but if anyone saw Snorlax hanging out with him, Hibiki feared getting busted. They were in up to their necks as it was.

"Yeah," Kenta was saying, "I'll take a picture and send it to you now. You'll have to come here to get them, so be sure to bring plenty of apricorn balls with you." He stopped. "I think about a hundred. Yes, I know it's insane . . . do you even have that many balls made? . . . Oh, I see. Well, I don't like to burst your confidence, but you'll still have nothing left over after the tide of trainers that'll be coming through your door. Never mind though, we'll worry about that later. For now, can Curtis come and get them? . . . Good, he'll need to bring a shovel. And another thing, you should hurry. We've only got so long before the military police realize their luggage is gone. I hope you've got a darn good flying pokémon ready . . . okay, yeah, that works."

A minute later, Kenta snapped his phone shut and looked at Hibiki. "Curtis coming on his Fearow," he explained, "but we won't be around to greet him when he gets here. We have to hurry up and get to our next destination." At the sound of the news, Hibiki's shoulders slumped in exhaustion. Kenta walked up and put a concerned arm around him, sensing it was time to be a responsible big brother. "I know you're tired of being on the go all the time," he said in as soothing a voice as he knew how. "But we can't wait to do this. For every day that passes, the outrage diminishes. Nothing but a strong willpower can win us this fight."

Hibiki nodded slowly. Kenta returned the nod, looking him in the eyes. "We'll take a vacation after this. A long one. But for now, we have to get some soldiers on our side."

" . . . Where will we find them?"

"First, we go to the nearest pokémon fan club." Kenta pointed in the direction of the sun, which was slowly beginning its descent. "We're heading southwest. To Vermilion City."

...

Not long after Bolt had risen into the clouds, Hibiki seized the opportunity to ask about Steven. He had seen how Kenta's face had lit up in recognition at what he, Hibiki, had perceived as an ordinary-looking young man. However, what really shook Hibiki was how Kenta trusted Steven enough to reveal his true self to the practical stranger. Was he really that great of a potential ally?

"Steven Stone," Kenta answered in response to Hibiki's question, "is an honorable man. He proved that when he fought for the lives of those Magneton earlier, even though it very well might have gotten him in trouble with the law. I was certain he would sympathize for us, after that.

"But Steven's worth doesn't stop at being an honorable man. He's also held the title of Hoenn Champion for longer than Brendan, to-date. As you've heard, only two people ever overcome his Metagross, and only Birch himself defeated his whole team." Kenta smiled grimly. "Stone is a masterful pokémon trainer. But I expect he had an edge that most of us aren't privileged with . . . financial backing from his father."

"Huh?" Hibiki looked at Kenta curiously. "Who's his dad, then?"

"Mr. Devon Stone. The president of Devon Corporation."

Kenta didn't need to say any more. Realization rushed over Hibiki immediately, like a tide. Of course . . . between his daytime television programs, he'd always used to see commercials advertising Devon's latest pokémon products, such as the Timer Ball and the recently-made Resurrection Machine. President Stone was a multi-billionaire, and his son, a pokémon force to be reckoned with. Now Hibiki understood why Kenta had tried so hard to win Steven's trust. The former champion would have been an indispensible ally; a resource that might've made their impossible task mercifully easier. But with or without him, they had to press on, and gather whatever other friends they could.


	21. Chapter 21

A/N: As some of you may have guessed, this is one of those fanfics with social, political, and religious overtones. Although I wrote this story purely for fun, I do interject commentary about issues into my writing at times. I mention this now, simply to make a disclaimer. I am not anti-police. They only play an antagonistic role in this story because they are being used as tools. Sorry- just had to get that off my chest. We now return you to your regularly scheduled program.

...

There was a house of the neighborhood of Vermillion Port, which served as a social hall of half the local trainer population. Through the threshold, the scenery revealed a compact room, filled with comfortable-looking sofas and a large table in the middle. On the walls hung large pictures and paintings of happy-looking people with pokémon, and on the floor sat actual-size pokémon dolls, consisting mostly of Clefairy. Just above the door, a cuckoo clock struck seven, and a little wooden Pidgey statue popped out and squawked at each knell. The elderly chairman in a suit called the meeting to order, but order didn't last long. Despite the passing of four months, the trainers affected by the G.R.I.P. legislations were still smarting from the loss of pokemon they had formed bonds with over the years. The President had merely to initiate a "pokemon of the day" discussion, and unless it was something decisively non-competitive, chances were someone would be triggered. Today's pokemon was Dodrio, and as per usual, the discussion soon plunged into a meaningless tangent.

"You remember my Dodrio? The one I nicknamed Chocobo? He was faster than any flying bird, and his Tri Attack always gave an enemy some sort of status condition. And those bastards from G.R.I.P. just took him like he was theirs!"

"Dodrio is no great loss, you could always get another one in the Safari Zone. But my Jynx was irreplaceable-"

"Hey, screw you! I don't care about getting another Dodrio. Chocobo was special! No one could ever replace him!"

"I had an Arcanine. He knew Extremespeed and Flamethrower, and I'd bought his Fire Stone and everything. Those good-for-nothings had no right to take him. Don't they have enough in their stupid K-9 unit already?"

"It's not fair that they, like, made us pick who we wanted to keep, while making us give up the others! It's like forcing us to choose who would get saved out of a burning house. Like, like, who matters more, your father, mother, brother, or sister? That's just cruel!"

"I couldn't keep any of my pokémon! They were all classified as too strong. What the HELL, man!"

Outside the door, Kenta and Hibiki listened to the lamentations drifting through the window. Kenta shook his head and groaned. "Well, they've got the right attitude," he said bitterly, "but I don't know if I'd be able to take all this eternal bitching."

"Hey, Moses had to deal with the Israelites for more than eighty years," said Hibiki, half-jokingly. "You don't have it so bad."

"Yeah, well, I'm not Moses."

"You're going to have to be one." Hibiki put a hand on Kenta's shoulder, feeling it was his turn to support his older sibling. "Kenta. If this plan is to work, you need to be the strong Moses figure. You might not be able to talk with God face-to-face, but I'll be your Aaron." He patted his brother on the back, giving him the reassuring smile that Kenta so often put on for him. "Now get in there and perform a miracle."

Kenta grinned weakly. "Alright, fine," he said, standing up straighter. "But if you ask me to part the Vermilion Sea and lead these guys to Fuscia City, I quit."

"Heh, Moses wasn't actually the one to do that, anyway," laughed Hibiki, pulling open the door for him. Kenta rolled his eyes and headed into the room first, and Hibiki followed, pulling the door shut behind him. Nobody took notice of the two newcomers, since all of them were completely preoccupied with talking about the pokémon they didn't have anymore. Kenta listened to a couple more kids talk about their lost Nidoqueen and Alakazam, then put aside his patience and brought his fingers to his mouth. He whistled loudly, shrilly, in such a sharp pitch that it brought a complete hush on the club in a matter of seconds. All eyes turned on him, and Kenta steeled himself for his upcoming speech.

 _Don't be afraid. Just call them out for what they are! You've got to MAKE them angry_!

"Look at yourselves." Kenta gazed around the room, at the surprised and skeptical faces that stared back at him. "Your once-proud pokémon teams are all but gone, and the best you can do is squeeze together in a stuffy room and gripe about it? I mean, come on- really? This isn't going to change anything, you know. Which one of you has gotten back so much as a Weedle for his bitching and moaning?"

The trainers of the fan club continued to stare at him. Their deer-in-the-headlights looks came across to Kenta as extremely stupid, and he forgot his stage fright completely as genuine anger took him. "And why do you all look so shocked right now?" he demanded. "Have I said something strange? I can't believe how weak you all are. The pokémon you've cherished your whole life are taken from every one of you in one night, and you aren't attempting to fight back. Not even by civil disobedience. You say you care about them, but you obviously don't care that much. You guys make me sick. It's fitting, really- you don't deserve the pokémon you've lost anyway."

"Who the friggin' hell do you think you are?" challenged a teenage boy towards the back right-hand side of the room. "You're not Brendan Birch, just 'cause you're dressed up like him."

"Yeah!" chimed in another girl, standing up angrily. "What we do is none of your business, you fake, so just turn around and get out now!"

"That's right!"

"You have no idea how we feel!"

Hibiki felt himself trembling slightly. He had encouraged Kenta into this, but things were quickly turning ugly. Suddenly, he had a powerful urge to retreat, to leave this spot of burning discomfort, and go back out into the cool evening air where it was quiet. This sort of pressure and abuse was too much for him.

"So, I have no idea how you feel, huh?" Kenta returned, his voice booming deeper and stronger than Hibiki had ever heard it before. He was holding up Bolt's Friend Ball, and his eyes glistened with the light of battle. "You think I don't know? Then here's what I propose. Everyone who wants me to leave, battle me out. Prove me wrong. If all the pokémon you still have are stronger than the single pokémon I have, then I'll go in shame. But if we win, then I get to declare EXACTLY how you feel- and you'll realize I'm right."

The fan club immediately burst into challenging calls of "fine!", "let's go outside!", "this freak is mine!", and a great deal of booing. Hibiki hurried to pull the door open again, and Kenta backed out, pulling Hibiki with him. The two brothers hurried to the other side of the street, and turned with their backs facing the sea. The fan club trainers piled out of their house and stood opposite to Kenta and Hibiki, pulling out their pokeballs in rapid succession. Shouts of summoning filled the air, and in burst after burst of blinding white light, the trainers' pokémon appeared until they had formed a solid wall. Hibiki eyed the opposing force: a Venomoth, three Jigglypuff, a Nidorino and a Nidoking, a Farfetch'd, two Poliwag, a Poliwhirl, two Pidgeotto, a Mr. Mime, two Raticate, a Rapidash, a Fearow, three Geodude, two Zubat, two Voltorb, a Vulpix, a Machop, two Gloom, a Clefairy, and two Pikachu. He couldn't even clearly see the pokémon behind the front lineup, but he was fairly certain that there were at least two more waves after the first. Hibiki looked at Kenta; his brother appeared faint from the sight. "Kenta?" he asked timidly, holding up his Heavy Ball, "I . . . I can help you if you'd like. If we double-battle them, do you think we might win?"

Kenta shook his head, putting a hand over his eyes. Hibiki wasn't sure he'd even heard him. "Man, these pokémon . . ." he muttered weakly, ". . . suck!"

Hibiki stared at him. "They suck?" he repeated, wondering if Kenta was serious. Kenta tossed his Friend Ball, still shaking his head. "Yeesh, this feels like a waste . . . but desperate times- you know the rest."

Bolt's gigantic Salamence body materialized between the Nyna brothers and their wall of opponents, and as he thudded to the ground, the entire front line cowered back a step. The fan club trainers gave yells of exclamation and disbelief, and Kenta pointed at the scattered first wave of opponents with a disgusted face. "You see, Hibiki," he said, "Intimidate is one of the best abilities a pokémon can have. Any physical opponents severely drop in their status as a threat. The problem is, when they're not a threat to begin with, it's just embarrassing to watch."

Hibiki could not stop himself from gawking at Kenta. Even for him, this was over the top. Hibiki understood that he was playing the part of the mean guy to be taken seriously, but there were limits to be considered. Whether it was true or not that the enemies were weak, their feelings had to be considered as well. But now wasn't the time to tell Kenta. He was in his battle state, and the last thing Hibiki wanted to do was distract him.

"Give them the first move, Bolt," Kenta commanded, "but use Protect. You've taken enough hits today already."

"Hey!" shouted one of the fan club girls indignantly from the crowd, "that pokémon isn't allowed to be used anymore!"

"Then take him from me, if you can," responded Kenta in his resolute voice. "I've kept him out of G.R.I.P's filthy hands until now; I'll keep him out of yours."

"We'll see about that!" snarled a young man, whose age appeared to be just around eighteen. "Break through its defenses, Nidoking! Thrash attack!" His command paved the way for his colleagues, and every fan club trainer on the frontlines followed with shouts of their own. Flurries of leaves, blasts of fire, bursts of water pressure, pillars of lightning, and beams of psychic force all shot at Bolt at once, along with every sort of horn, talon, fist, beak, claw, and sharp fang imaginable. The Salamence was covered as all the attacks landed at once, and a cloud of smoke burst out from the scene. Hibiki held on tight to his hood as the air pressure blasted outwards from the impact, wondering frantically how anything could hope to survive such an outburst. Kenta, meanwhile, stood his ground, his arms crossed, his eyes observing the scenery as the smoke cleared.

Bolt was unscathed; his wings wrapped around his whole body but the tail, surrounded by a protective emerald-colored aura. As he unfurled his body, the aura vanished from sight, and he bellowed a ferocious roar at his legion of attackers. Lying around him were two fallen Pidgeotto, two Jigglypuff, and a Poliwag. Kenta pointed at them, retaining his strong voice so that nobody would miss his words. "Look at that!" he exclaimed angrily. "We haven't even returned fire yet, and your own pokémon are hitting each other with their attacks! What if I were a real threat? The lot of you would be done for."

"Don't act all high and mighty, just because you avoided damage for one turn!" snapped the one girl from earlier. "Any pokémon can learn Protect. You're just stalling your defeat!"

"Am I?" Kenta narrowed his eyes, irked at his opponents' ignorance. "Then defeat us with the pokémon who can still battle after this move." He pointed at the crowd of fan club pokémon still lined up in fighting poses. "Ground them, Bolt! Earthquake!"

Hibiki knew what came next. He bent his knees as Bolt shot up into the sky, prepared to leap. As soon as the Salamence began his comet dive, Hibiki jumped as high as he could, and not a moment too soon. Bolt's torso smashed the ground with all the force of a fallen jumbo jet, and the quake rattled every house within seeing-eye distance. A few windows shattered, and a couple of unfortunate fishermen on distant docks were thrown straight into the water. On the battlefield, not one ground pokémon remained standing. Hibiki climbed to his feet, and subconsciously inventoried the enemy pokémon still conscious. Remaining on the fan club's side flew two Butterfree, a Farfetche'd, a Fearow, two Spearow, a Venomoth, a Beedrill, and two Zubat. Other than them, the vast majority was down for the count.

The Vermilion fan club stood surprisingly silent now, standing and staring at their fainted pokémon, all beaten by a single devastating move. Kenta waited a few seconds for the reality to sink in, then spoke once more, hoping to God that he wasn't making the wrong decision. "I'm guessing you guys had somewhere between seventy to ninety pokémon before this," he declared, less harshly than before. "Do you want to keep going with your last ten, or are you ready to quit?"


	22. Chapter 22

Hibiki watched the fans intently, wondering what they would do. Never in his life had he ever experienced anything so extreme, and even the morning's battle between Bolt and the Tyranitar seemed tame in comparison to taking down almost an entire city's club of trainers. The members of Vermilion Fan Club were staring at Kenta and his Salamence with a new expression written on their faces. There was little indignation amongst them now, let alone hatred. Certainly, there was no more pride. Now there was only fear, awe, realization at last that they were facing a trainer several leagues above them. The club's chairman stepped forward meekly, removing his hat with one hand while waving down his remaining few pokémon trainers with the other. He bowed his head, not looking either of the Nyna brothers in the eye.

"I'm sorry," the old man spoke, keeping his eyes on the ground. "None of us had any idea what you were capable of. No more fighting- please?"

Kenta let out a long whoosh of breath and gave the chairman a relieved smile. "I never intended to fight you in the first place," he said, walking up to Bolt and rubbing his scaly head. "I'd only wanted to talk."

The chairman motioned to his club's house. "Then by all means, let's go back inside. Can we perhaps start over?"

"I'd like that. Um . . . sorry about your windows. I'll pay for them soon, I promise."

...

Hibiki hadn't expected the trainer fan club to forgive him and his brother so readily, and judging by some of the dirty looks he was getting from the more grudging kids, he accepted that not everyone shared the chairman's views. Each club trainer sat cross-legged on the couches and wherever there was room on the floor, watching as Kenta prepared to speak once more at the forefront of the room. Looking at Kenta for a moment, Hibiki noticed that he had become just as nervous as he was before. Kenta scratched the back of his head and smiled weakly, if not somewhat guiltily, at his listeners.

"Guys, I uh . . . I want to apologize for my rudeness earlier," he said slowly. "It's just that I had to stir you up and get you all listening to me somehow, and angering you was the only way I knew you'd take me seriously."

"I was going to say earlier, you were being kind of a douche back there," chimed in Hibiki. He ducked as Kenta attempted to smack him in the back of the head. "Shut up, runt."

"So you're not Brendan Birch, and I don't even know who that kid is," spoke the trainer who'd owned the Mr. Mime, pointing at Hibiki. "Just who are you guys?"

"That, we can't tell you," said Kenta in a final tone. "But we're here to offer you something that nobody else can give you. We're here to take back . . ." He spread out his arms. "-yesterday."

Kenta proceeded to explain almost everything to the fan club, starting with G.R.I.P.'s policies, the government's recent seizing of the Master Ball, and Kurt's imprisonment. To hammer the coffin nail in further, he brought up Captain Arcada's unauthorized use of deadly force against him (showing them all the red patch that had been his bullet wound), and how he and Hibiki had witnessed the police killing wild Magneton and stocking them in a truck. All throughout his testifying, he took care not to give away his own name or Hibiki's. At one point, a male trainer raised his hand and guessed exactly who he was.

"So you got shot, you say? It said in the paper that an officer died of a bullet wound through the gut during the Silph Incident. It was a guy called Nyna. You also have a bullet wound in your gut."

"I am not Officer Nyna," denied Kenta smoothly, "or I'd be dead, wouldn't I?"

"But . . . but nobody else was even reported getting hurt except for the receptionist-"

"People get shot when they seize criminal syndicates, and Nyna was just unlucky," said Kenta, trying his best to make it sound obvious. "As for me, of course Arcada left it out of the news that he shot a fellow officer. Otherwise he'd be thrown in jail."

Hibiki looked at Kenta, but saw no show of weakness. He was keeping a game face on, refusing to let leak that he was lying in any way. It impressed and disturbed him at the same time.

"How can you be sure that the government really intends to use our pokémon as war machines?" asked a slender-looking young man with sharp eyes, as Kenta was wrapping up. Kenta shook his head. "I have no absolute final proof on that. I could be right, and I could be wrong." He glared as he thought of Silvaki Kurisawa's honeyed smile on television. "But regardless, they are our pokémon. Not theirs. The only thing worse than a thief, is a thief who says he's done nothing wrong."

"And isn't it strange that they're only letting us have two pokémon now?" added Hibiki. "I could understand them limiting us from catching hundreds of pokémon that are left sitting in the PC, but they didn't even let us keep our maximum teams of six. That's not fair! The only reason they'd do that is to make us weak!"

"Hear, hear!" cried a girl in the front row. As the rest of the club gave a short cheer, Kenta turned his head to Hibiki and gave him a quick wink. "Nice one. It's reasons like this that I wanted you with me."

"Thanks. I try."

"We want our pokémon back!" shouted a young trainer in the middle left area of the crowd. "I don't even get to see mine for another seven years!"

"You will get your pokémon back," announced Kenta, raising his hands for silence. "But it may cost you dearly. This isn't your typical resistance effort against some low-down team of crooks bent on using pokémon to take over so-and-so. Our opponents aren't Team Rocket, or Aqua, or Galactic, or any of those other minor distractions. This time, it's our own rulers. We're going to be doing something much bigger than just taking back our pokémon friends- we will be staring down our government face-to-face and telling them that they were wrong."

A hush followed his words, and Kenta stopped talking. _I'd better give them time to think it over. Unlike me, their minds haven't been made up before now._

"How will we do it?" asked the club chairman, rising from his seat in the back center of the room. "How can we possibly hope to overpower our government now?"

Kenta smiled grimly. "It won't be easy."

*One day later: Saffron City Pokémon Fan Club*

"G.R.I.P. has taken our strongest pokémon, and left us with almost nothing. If we ever want to match them in power again, we'll have to plan and work together as never before. Until now, it's been every trainer for himself, taught to 'stand alone in the victory circle and state his claim when the music starts.' But I tell you now, you no longer 'want to be the very best, like no one ever was.' Look beside you, at your neighbor. He or she is your teammate, and is to be considered your equal or better. Pride breeds selfish thinking, and if you think you can beat G.R.I.P. by yourself, try battling me.

*Two days later: Goldenrod Underground*

"In spite of our meager condition, we have one thing our government doesn't have- numbers. G.R.I.P. placed down an age marker that cuts out every trainer below eighteen years old as a qualified pokémon holder. But G.R.I.P.'s pokeball tracking system is limited to the merchandise in official pokemarts. You 'unqualified' trainers can avoid being tracked by getting custom-made pokeballs from Azalea Town's Kurt Kuchinawa. He can only afford to give you one or two though, so make sure that whatever pokémon you decide to capture for yourself stays in the ball. And for the love of God, catch something you can rely upon! No Paras or Hoothoot, you get me? If you've got a legal pokémon trainer in your midst, ask him to assist you in the capture, so you might snag the wild pokémon in one go. Remember, be stealthy when going to see Kurt, or the police force may get suspicious. The password to getting your apricorn ball is 'release!'

*Three days later: Dewford City Hall*

"G.R.I.P. may or may not have known this, but the beauty in only having two pokémon is that they get all the training attention. Battle experience won't be spread out, as it would've been in a team of six. Your pokémon will grow fast, and learn tougher moves more quickly. Don't slack off though- we haven't got the luxury of time on our side! Train your pokémon to at least the second evolution, and be smart about the moves you let them keep. No Graveler with Harden, understand? Try to make your teams of two balance each other out. Get a special attacker and a physical attacker if you can, a sweeper and a tank, a status condition striker and a direct hitter, whatever it takes. Everything counts, down to your pokémon's very special ability. Mix it up as much as you can, because teams of two don't have nearly as much flexibility as teams of six!

*Four days later: Lilycove City Pokémon Fan Club*

"If any of you have been saving your money, now is the time to use it! Pool your wealth and spend it on the most powerful TMs you can buy. Lilycove Department Store is famous for its TM stock, which consists of elemental master moves like Thunder and Fire Blast. They're not accurate like their more reliable (and eternally more expensive) cousins Ice Beam and Thunderbolt. But they're the only guarantees we have of taking large chunks out of our opponents' hitpoints. Buying Protect goes without saying! Also, don't leave out Reflect and Light Screen. No matter how powerful your opponent is, his strength is cut in half against defenses like these. Reflect and Light Screen will undoubtedly save us from being wiped out in one hit. That's all the time we need to strike back! And if any of you are holding HM03, Surf, share it amongst yourselves! Surf is the gift that keeps on giving- only three pokémon types are resistant to it, and it will never run out. Don't stop at sharing this stuff with fellow club members, but lend a helping hand to any rebel trainer fighting for our cause!

*Five days later: Hearthome City Pokémon Fan Club*

"As you probably already know, unofficial trainers don't get to use pokémon centers anymore. And on the day of battle, should it come, the pokémon on our side will be dropping like flies. So get ready now! Gear up with as many Revives as you can carry. Buy Lemonade from machines instead of potions from pokemarts; it's cheaper and more efficient. Start practicing your pokeflutes, so you can ward off sleep and confusion if it comes your way. Last of all, stock up on berries against status conditions! If we're going to stand a chance against an army of pokémon all-superior to ours, we've got to be in it to win it. I promise you now, if we fight for long enough, the tide of the battle will turn. I will personally see to that.

*Six days later: Crescent City Pokémon Fan Club*

"Attacking your enemies all at once is a terrible idea; you'll end up hitting your teammates. But in everything else you do, be as close with each other as a colony of ants. You guys must learn to travel together, train together, live together, and fight together as a unit. Even if it means teaming up with Rockets, Cipher, Innuendo, whoever, there cannot be bitterness among you. To the government, one rebel trainer is a deluded idealist. Two rebel trainers are partners in crime. But an entire region of rebel trainers is a movement! There will be no single chieftain to lead you all, not me, nor anyone else. But pick for yourselves a champion for each group, so that if your leader falls in battle, other units can press on without a broken moral.

"In spite of our secrecy, it's only a matter of time until our opponents find out what we're up to. We have until that unknown day to prepare for confrontation. My name to you all is Brendan Birch, and I am on your side!"


	23. Chapter 23

One week had passed since the day Hibiki had pulled out of his dreary home life and into the under-the-radar vigilante life Kenta had offered him. On the morning of April 8, he awoke as usual in the vacant library of Earl's Pokémon Academy, and after going through his morning routine, he shot a glance at the calendar on the wall that Kenta had bought. The first row of days were all crossed out with x's, as was the Sunday of April 7th just below. In each of the squares were the words "rally trainers," in Kenta's handwriting. However, in the box of Monday, April 8, the words "get out of town" were scribbled down. Hibiki had been meaning to ask Kenta what it meant for a while, or whether he'd even read it correctly. Unfortunately, the matter kept slipping his mind as he worried about each new day that came.

From behind him, Hibiki heard Kenta strolling into the room, accompanied by the muffled and scratchy voice of someone talking over a broadcast station. He turned and looked, and sure enough, Kenta was holding a portable, battery-operated radio by the handle while brushing his teeth. He was wearing his army uniform; something Hibiki hadn't seen him in since they'd been to Azalea Town to rescue Kurt. "Good news, Hibiki!" Kenta said cheerily, holding up the radio. "They're calling for clear skies today, and no rain. This'll be nice for what we're going to do."

"Why, what are we going to do?" questioned Hibiki, as a commercial for a chest pain reliever started up. Kenta took the toothbrush out of his mouth, ran to spit, and returned wiping his mouth. "Well, I figure after all this frantic running around we've been doing, we deserve some time off in a warmer climate," he answered, pulling out his officer's hat from his pocket. Hibiki stared at him skeptically. "So . . . what, are we going to the beach or something?" he asked slowly. Kenta gave a short laugh. "Close," he replied. "Try a little less ocean and a little more sand."

Before Hibiki could get any further in his guessing, the PKTV "special news bulletin" music began playing on the radio. He and Kenta both turned to the small electronic device, and Kenta raised the volume on the speakers. "-just in, a small party of men were seen earlier today by several civilians of Mahogany Town, dressed in what was believed to be Team Rocket clothing. While it is unconfirmed whether or not they have done anything suspicious up until now, the witnesses all report seeing the red 'R' logo on the mens' shirts. The police are presently searching the area for these supposed neo-Rockets, but so far-"

Kenta slapped a hand to his forehead and gave a loud groan, his good humor instantly vanished. "Damn it!" he whined angrily, covering his eyes. "What are those idiots doing? They should know better than to parade themselves around like jackasses. WHY would they wear the uniforms in public?"

Hibiki shrugged. "Maybe they're trying to distract the press from what we're doing?"

"In other news," the announcer continued, "a thirteen-year-old boy was arrested today for illegally carrying around pokémon against the new policies set down by G.R.I.P.. The boy possessed a Stantler and a Drowzee that he'd captured using two Great Balls, but did not resist arrest when Goldenrod's Officer Jenny came to confiscate the pokémon. When asked why he'd broken the law, he reportedly said, quote: 'Brendan Birch told me to do it.' His is a similar response to those given by the three underage trainers arrested last week for the same crime. At a conference in the Indigo League today, Champion Birch himself addressed the issue personally."

Hibiki heard Kenta mutter swear softly. Looking him in the face, he detected shame in his brother's features. "I never meant for this to happen," Kenta said in a choked voice. "The last thing I want to do is get the real Brendan in trouble."

"I deny ever telling any school-age trainers to break any laws of our country," came Brendan's apologetic and somewhat resentful voice over the radio. "Petty rebellions like these do nothing but bring dishonor on pokémon trainers, and the name of Japan."

A female reporter's voice resumed speaking on the radio. "Mr. Birch went on to say that he disapproves of what the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokémon has done, but it is not his place or any other trainer's to antagonize it. He concluded by adding that anyone using his name for the sake of rebellion is a liar."

There was a moment's silence, and Hibiki could hear Kenta mumbling incoherently to himself in a strangely high-pitched voice. A second later, the radio station's two reporters were speaking to each other in a much more personable, less serious tone.

"So why do YOU think Champion Birch's name is coming up so much among the arrested trainers?"

"Well, you know . . . he's a celebrated idol, potentially the greatest trainer since Lance. I guess they figure if they use his name, nobody will question their actions."

"Ha, ha! You know what I think? Maybe Birch slips out of his window at night and goes around whispering in sleeping children's ears."

"Hee, hee, hee, hee . . . sleepwalking, of course."

Kenta didn't wait to hear any more. As the commentators continued to laugh, he clicked off the radio, then flopped back onto the floor in spread-eagle posture. Hibiki looked at him worriedly, not knowing what to do.

"Kenta? Are you okay?"

His older brother looked slowly at him, as though processing his words. Then he shook his head and heaved a deep sigh. "Ever feel like the world's against you?" he asked softly, in such a quiet voice that Hibiki had to strain his ears to hear. "Bro, if we fail, all my enemies, my prosecutors, will become yours also. Silhouette hates me. Steven hates me. And now my own hero has called me a liar. Everywhere we go, I'm the badguy."

"Everyone doesn't hate you," reasoned Hibiki, hoping with mild panic that Kenta wasn't going into depression. "What have we been doing for the last seven days? You're giving people their hope back; how could they hate you for that?"

"If we fail, all my enemies will become yours," Kenta repeated, his eyes glazed over as he stared at the ceiling. "All those fan club people we've been visiting, they cling to me only because I must sound like I know what I'm doing. But just watch how fast they'll turn on us, if everyone ends up in prison. When times turn as bad as they can get, you find out who your friends are." Kenta looked up, and he and Hibiki locked eyes. "I have you and Bolt, and the Kuchinawa family. You are the ones I trust."

Hibiki looked away from him, feeling proud, and yet hurt at the same time. "Are we truly it?" he asked sadly. "What about Mom and Dad? What about Marina and Juni'chi? What about Bakuphoon?"

"You know I love them all dearly," said Kenta thickly, sitting straight up. "I'd do anything for them. But they can't help us now, and I don't want them to." He glared at his own tightly-closed fists. "Aren't they suffering enough? I'd regret it if any of them got involved."

"Kenta."

Hibiki stared meaningfully at him. "Do you regret getting me involved?"

Kenta looked back at him, and his expression turned sorrowful. "I was selfish," he uttered, hanging his head. "I needed you. And I need you. If I was stronger, I wouldn't have taken you, and you would be safe."

"Well I don't regret it," said Hibiki in an absolute tone, reaching out and clasping Kenta's shoulders firmly. He looked resolutely at Kenta until the latter looked up at him. "I said it, didn't I?" Hibiki pressed. "I'm with you to the death, Kenta. To the very end. On that day you went into the police station to rescue Kurt, you told me to act like I didn't know you, if you got caught. I resented those instructions. I won't follow them if you ask me to do it again."

"Hibiki-!"

"So do me a favor!" Hibiki stood up from the floor and put out his hand, his face set. "No more regret, Kenta. I'd have gotten involved with you anyway, even knowing what I was getting myself into. I'm here for you, now do your best to be here for me!"

Kenta stared at Hibiki's extended hand in wonder, bowed his head, and let out a shuddering sigh. He laughed weakly. "Wow." Taking Hibiki's hand, he allowed himself to be lifted to his feet. He gazed into his younger brother's face; Hibiki looked more mature to him than ever before. "You know, kid," he said, breaking into a full smile, "with a brother like you, any guy could take on the world right now."

"That's what I like to hear!" said Hibiki, matching Kenta's grin. "So then, let's get going to . . . uh . . ." He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. "Um, where are we going again?"

Kenta faced him with an expression of new determination. "Krane Laboratories," he replied, pulling his military hat on. "In the Orre Region."


	24. Chapter 24

"Grandpa, would you please get that?" asked Curtis, as his tiny household's phone began to ring from across the tool bench.

"You get it!" answered Kurt, not looking up from his work as he ignited his welding torch. "I'm old . . . and more importantly, I'm busy!"

Curtis sighed and put down the sandpaper he was holding, then removed his gloves and hurried to the phone as it completed its third ring. "Kuchinawa residence, this is Curtis," he said into the speaker. "Oh! Hi, Kenta." Straining to hear his associate's voice better, Curtis held a hand over his ear to drown out the rumble of Kurt's blowtorch. "Sorry, what? I can't hear a darn thing you're saying."

"I said, how are the Master Ball duplicates coming along?" shouted Kenta from his end of the line, as he and Hibiki rose through a sea of clouds on Bolt's back.

"Oh, those? Yeah, they're great, we've got almost all of 'em done." Curtis pressed the phone tighter to his ear. "Kenta, it's really hard to hear you. All I can make out is the stupid wind blowing all around you."

"We're two thousand feet up in the air," Kenta replied, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. "It's going to be a little windy."

"How are you not freezing your asses off?"

"We are. But if Bolt can hold out, so can we."

"If you say so. Anyway, uh . . . these Master Balls are amazing." Curtis glanced over at Kurt, who had his blowtorch off and his welding mask up on his forehead. "Did I tell you I caught a Lapras last Friday, during the test? It was in an underground lake in the East Azalea Cave. Captured in one go."

"Yes, Curtis, you've told me every day since then," sighed Kenta.

"Oh, right. Sorry. But anyway, yeah, these balls are the highest-quality pieces of work we've ever made! I wish we could make more."

"Don't say that!" Kenta's rebuke from the other end was loud and sharp, and Curtis heard it painfully clear. "Those balls used to be Magneton! Our ancestors killed animals for their meat and skins as a survival necessity, but we can live without these Master Balls. Whatever amount you end up with will have to do!"

Kenta listened from his end for Curtis's reply, but the pokeball-maker was silent. Feeling he might have hurt Curtis, Kenta followed up apologetically. "Besides," he murmured more gently, "I'll always prefer your Friend Balls. They make pokémon happy."

" . . . Thank you."

"Curtis, I just want you to know that I'm deeply grateful for all the work you've been doing," Kenta added on quickly, still feeling insufficient. "I mean, you've been working on those things nonstop for an entire week now, without a nickel of pay, and at constant risk of being taken in by the police. On top of that, you're also having kids walking into your house from dawn 'til dusk, demanding all the apricorn balls you've ever stashed away. I don't think I could ever repay-"

"Hey, hey!" interjected Curtis, stopping him. "It's fine. Really. Do you know how happy Grandpa is?" He smiled. "We're total heroes, over here. Grandpa feels more important with every trainer that calls 'release' through our door. They know, and we know, that what we're giving them aren't just some balls- they're _**the**_ balls. Through us, people are becoming trainers again. And through us . . ." He spoke closer to the receiver. "Well, you know. 'The tide will turn.'"

"That's what today's field trip is all about," said Kenta briskly. "Wish us luck."

"Do you have your Master Ball with you?"

"Uh-huh."

Curtis smiled again. "Then that won't be necessary."

As both parties hung up, Hibiki tapped Kenta on the shoulder from his seat behind. "Did you tell him what we were doing today?" he asked, holding tightly to his hood. Kenta nodded. "A while back, actually."

"Before or after your first speech to the fan clubs?" asked Hibiki, somewhat skeptically. "You know, that talk where you said 'the only thing worse than a thief is a thief who says he's done nothing wrong'?"

"Hey, I know it's wrong, but it's the only way to take back what's ours," Kenta responded, shrugging his shoulders. "Besides, we're not stealing anything. We're borrowing it without permission."

"G.R.I.P. could use that same excuse about our pokémon, Mr. Sparrow."

"That's Captain Sparrow to you. Don't forget your gloves, now."

...

Kenta's outer mannerisms maintained a facade of confidence quite contrary to his innermost thoughts.

 _I'm already getting butterflies in my stomach over this. I've been planning it for weeks, but there's so much that could go wrong. I'm not worried so much that we'll be beaten, but more over the possibility that we could finally be identified for who we are. Krane's lab has security everywhere. There's just overwhelming protection guarding the most valuable thing in Orre._

 _The Snag Machine._

Up until six years ago, it had been impossible for any trainer to steal another's pokémon. Loyal as dogs, and dependable as lifelong friends, pokémon had always shared a tendency to follow only the orders of their own masters. If a pokémon was ever taken forcibly from its trainer, the case was constant: it would not yield to its new master. Even if a would-be thief attempted to catch another trainer's pokémon, it would be in vain; the capture ball would simply bounce uselessly off the pokémon like an acorn. Until the pokémon got the trainer's consent, it would obey nobody else.

That was before the Snag Machine. A device of sinister genius, invented by a group of desert brigands known as Team Snagem, the Snag Machine's purpose was to alter normal pokeballs so that they became artificial will-breakers. If a Snag-Machine-modified pokeball were to be thrown at a trained pokémon, it would not only suck the pokémon in by force, but strip the creature of its former loyalty. In a way, the machine stood as a different form of rape. A truly terrible contraption, it went against every definition of nature, disgusting all but the most apathetic of criminals.

And now Kenta needed it.

Ever since his first spy visit to Krane Laboratories back before he'd gotten Hibiki, Kenta had held a constant opinion about the location. Rather than a research facility for heart purification technology, the place would've done better as a nuclear testing zone. Outside the lab's two-mile radius of vegetation, there was nothing but desert sand and rocky soil as far as the eye could see. Nobody would be calling in to visit way out here, nor would anyone without an all-terrain vehicle simply be able to come. Kenta couldn't imagine who in their right minds would consider building any sort of human structure out here, except maybe for mining or archeology expeditions.

Bolt rocketed over Orre's enormous stretch of sandbeds, hovering less than ten feet off the ground. In the distance, Hibiki spotted a greenish-black patch of land and pointed ahead at it. "Look, Kenta! I think I see it."

"I think you're right," answered Kenta, over the blowing of the wind. "We'll touch down once we're in a thick enough patch of trees. We can't have those guys seeing Bolt . . . yet." He turned around from where he was sitting behind Bolt's neck and looked Hibiki seriously in the face. "Now, do you remember the plan? Or would you like to act it out first, before we go in for real?"

Hibiki shook his head. "No, that's okay. I remember pretty well. Acting it out now would dull the second performance."

Kenta grinned and ruffled his hair. "Don't lose that self-confidence, now. We're gonna need it very soon."


	25. Chapter 25

In the middle of the Orre desert stood the few acres of oasis forest where Kenta and Hibiki landed. In the middle of the forest acres stood Krane Laboratories itself, surrounded by dirt paths leading up to the doors. In the middle of Krane Laboratories sat the first-floor reception room, and in the middle of that, the receptionist's desk. When Kenta and Hibiki entered through the sliding panel door leading to the center of centers, it was as if they had walked into the center of attention. Three guards eyed the brothers suspiciously as they strode towards the woman behind the desk, and she herself looked up them with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes? Can I help you with something?"

Hibiki pulled his traveler's cloak tightly around him, so that he'd have as little of himself showing as possible. Kenta pointed at him, putting on a stern, yet sympathetic face. "Please, could we get a cup of water for this kid?" he asked. "I was on my way over here when I found him wandering around in the middle of the sand dunes. The lad seems to have gotten separated from his caravan, passing through here."

"Oh!" Like magic, the receptionist's defenses vanished. "Yes, yes, just wait here, and I'll be right back!"

She hurried out of her seat and walked smartly towards the double-doors in the back left corner of the room. They opened before she got there, and two people walked out, apparently in the middle of conversation with each other. The first was a middle-aged man in a white lab coat, with untidy brown hair and a pleasant smile on his face. The other was a boy about fifteen years in age, wearing a gentlemanly suit and tie. It clashed terribly with flamboyant hairstyle, which was a mane of long red hair that clashed between spikes and dreadlocks.

The two parties looked at each other for a moment in mild surprise, then the receptionist stepped hastily to the side. "Oh dear, pardon me, Professor-!"

"Not at all, Kaoru, go right ahead . . ."

"That's him," muttered Kenta in undertone, so that only Hibiki would hear. "Professor Krane himself. And it looks like his office is still unlocked during business hours."

 _That's odd . . . I was expecting more resistance than that. I know for a fact that he stored the Snag Machine in there the other day, before closing up._

Kenta had only seen the Snag Machine one other time from when he'd spied Krane carrying it into his office. It had been a couple years back, during an Internet search he had done on criminal-made tools and technology. A file photo titled "snag machine" revealed a mechanical arm of sorts, wired to a metallic sphere shaped like a trash can lid. The photo bordered on classified information, and Kenta felt lucky to have seen it at all. It would definitely come in handy now.

The receptionist bustled out of Krane's office with a glass of tap water, and handed it to Hibiki as soon as she'd returned. Hibiki, who was actually somewhat thirsty after riding through the high-wind sky environment on Bolt, snatched the glass and gulped down the water instantly, putting on a convincing show. Kenta silently congratulated him in his mind, and pulled out his Master Ball to show the receptionist.

"Um, I've been asked to deliver this to Professor Krane," he said in a modest voice, looking over the receptionist's shoulder at Krane's retreating back. Playing dumb, he pointed in Krane's direction. "That wouldn't happen to be him, would it?"

Kenta glanced at the receptionist; she was staring at the Master Ball in silent astonishment. Remembering that the Master Ball was a very sensitive item, he pushed it back into his pocket. She looked back up at him. "Krane? She asked distantly, then came to her senses. "Oh! Excuse me! Professor Krane!"

Krane, who had been getting into a backroom elevator with his younger companion, turned to the redheaded boy with a diffident smile. "Would you excuse me, Maikeru?" Kenta heard him say. "I'll be up in just a minute."

"What? But . . . I need you with me for this-"

"Mr. Krane, sir?" asked Kenta, walking up to him and saluting officially. He noticed that Hibiki was still right beside him, clinging to his arm now. "I've got something for you. Can we go to your office for just a minute?"

He held up the Master Ball for Krane to see. Almost identically to the receptionist, the professor stared at the ball as though it were a snake, and all traces of his pleasant expression gave way to horror. Beside him, the boy named Maikeru looked at him with a confused expression . . . and was Kenta imagining it, or was there suspicion?

"Professor," said Maikeru interrogatively, looking from the Master Ball to his associate, "what is the meaning of this? You don't have the clearances to be holding a Master Ball anymore. This project was supposed to be dropped."

"This . . . this isn't for me," stammered Krane in objection, backing away from the ball fearfully. "I never ordered anything of the sort! I know my boundaries!"

"Sir, this isn't actually for you," said Kenta hastily, improvising on the spot. "I just need you to pass it on to the right person. You are the head of the lab after all." He motioned insistently at Krane's office with his head. "Can we please go in there for a minute?"

The professor looked at Kenta with a mingled expression of guilt and frustration, then pointed at his office doors in a swift arm-sweeping movement. "After you," he muttered, and Kenta hurried in without a second's delay, pulling Hibiki with him. Krane looked to Maikeru beside him, and putting up his arms in defense, mouthed "I don't know!" silently. Following the young man in the officer's uniform and the cloaked younger man with him, he shut the doors behind him without another glance at Maikeru.

Kenta barely had time to sweep the rather bland and empty office with his eyes when Professor Krane was in his face, beside himself with fury. "Who told you to bring one of those things in here?" Krane demanded, pointing at the Master Ball in Kenta's right hand. "Don't you know who I was just talking to?! Don't you realize what you might've done? Who is your commanding officer, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Krane, sir," said Kenta, tugging him gently towards his desk, "but you need to step away from the door, please."

"Wh-? Get your hands off me. What do you think you're doing?"

"Protecting you from being squashed. Hibiki!"

That was his brother's cue. Hibiki reached into his pocket, withdrawing the Heavy Ball within, and flung it towards the door. In a burst of light, Snorlax's gigantic body was covering the entire front half of the room, completely blocking any avenue of escape. A security camera on the ceiling crumbled to bits as Snorlax's flab pushed relentlessly against it.

Krane looked baffled. His eyes grew even bigger as Kenta removed the cap and military jacket from his upper torso, revealing an inner layer of clothing- the Birch costume. Tugging Brendan's trademark headband on, Kenta returned his focus to the shaken professor, his eyes glinting in the office light. It was time to talk business.

"Professor Krane, developer of the world's first official Snag Machine. We need to borrow your technology for a short amount of time."

Kenta watched as Krane's eyes flickered over to his desk, before returning to his own. "Who are you children?" he asked, putting on a brave front. "What do you want with the Snag Machine?"

"What do you think we want with it?" snapped Hibiki, who was already going through the desk and scanning the walls. He turned to Kenta with a worried expression. "It's not here."

"It is here," Kenta told him sternly, hoping as hard as he could that it was. "It's just well-hidden. They'll have amped up security after the Cipher incident three years ago. Try knocking on the walls and floors, see if you can find a hollow spot."

"The people of Cipher were low-down thieves! Crooks! Kidnappers!" shouted Krane in panic, backing away from Kenta until he tripped and fell against the pudgy body of Snorlax behind him. "Just like you!"

"Don't be so quick to judge," said Kenta as composedly as he could- which was an effort. "Do you think we would use the Snag Machine to take someone else's pokémon? No. We would not."

"Oh, really?" Krane pushed fruitlessly against Snorlax's belly, but the fat and heavy pokémon wasn't budging an inch. "What other use could you possibly have for it?"

"How about . . ." Kenta eyed Krane sharply. "Taking back our own?"

Professor Krane looked back at him with a new astonishment, then resumed his outrage. "Steal back your own?" he snapped with a mirthless laugh. "Ha! So you can pull more stunts like this? This is precisely why Maikeru took Cipher's shadow pokémon from them, years ago. They were a danger to society!"

"Let me get your opinion on something, Professor," Kenta interrupted forcefully, cutting off Krane's rant. "Let's say there were two boys on a playground, and one was playing fetch with a new puppy he'd been given for his birthday." He narrowed his eyes. "But the second boy didn't like what he saw, so he dog-napped the puppy. If the first boy then tried to rescue his puppy back . . ." He crossed his arms resolutely. "Would you consider him a thief?"

"That's misrepresenting the issue entirely," Krane fired back. "Why don't you try looking at it this way? What if the first boy was learning how to shoot a sling, and the second person was really his father, who knew the danger of slingshots? He would be no thief, if he took the sling away for the good of his son. On the contrary, his son would be a disobedient scoundrel if he tried to take his sling back!"

"My concern is that the father becomes too obsessed with the slingshot, himself," Kenta parried. Krane let out another humorless laugh. "That's ridiculous!" he said dismissively, flinging his arm in heat of the debate. "No father figure would do that!"

"Then maybe we should've stuck with my example," said Kenta tenaciously. "The only thefts so far have been committed by the members of G.R.I.P. Call me disobedient if you want, but I consider my pokémon family. I don't care if you consider them weapons. It only proves to me that you're of the same mindset as Cipher. Like you, they were only ever able to see pokémon as tools of destruction."

Krane opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His expression softened from hard anger to horror. "No," he gasped. "I would never-"

"Kenta!" called Hibiki, sounding excited. "I think we've got something! The floor under Krane's chair- it's hollow!"

"Nicely done, Hibiki!" exclaimed Kenta, running immediately over to where Hibiki was standing behind Krane's desk. He turned back to the professor, with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, sir," he said, "but please tell us where the button is for opening up the floor here. Otherwise we'll just have to bust through manually."

Professor Krane was silent for about five seconds. "The red one," he finally said. "Under the desk."

Kenta was too late to stop Hibiki as he reached for the button and pressed it. "Hibiki, no! Don't-!"

"What? What?" Hibiki looked at him, terrified. Kenta gritted his teeth. "It's the silent alarm. He made us hit the panic button!"

"G.R.I.P.'s intentions for your pokémon are better than anything you can do for them," said Krane with gritted teeth. "They're going back to nature. Where they belong."

Kenta pulled out his Friend Ball and glanced over at Krane for one second. "If you seriously believe that," he said, letting it drop, "then I'll forgive you tricking us. You're not a bad man at heart."

One second later, Bolt's gigantic form stood before the Nyna brothers. Kenta pointed at the floor, where Hibiki had spotted the hidden trapdoor. "Right there, Bolt. Use Brick Break!" The dragon pokémon immediately slammed its rock-hard head into the floor, and it gave way with a great shattering like glass. Concealed beneath the broken trapdoor sat a concrete stairwell leading down to a hidden basement of sorts, a descent into darkness. As Kenta and Hibiki gazed down into the passage, a banging from the front of the room issued behind Snorlax's relaxed body.

"Open this door!" came a muffled demand from outside, from one of the guards. "Let us through, or we'll force our way in!"

"We haven't got much time," muttered Kenta, motioning Hibiki to follow him. "Hand me the flashlight. We've gotta search quickly!"

Hibiki, who had been in charge of their backpack, pulled out a heavy-duty flashlight from the side pocket and pushed it hurriedly into Kenta's hands. The latter clicked it on and galloped down the stairs at once, beckoning Hibiki to follow. As the two brothers reached the bottom, Kenta spotted a light switch at the bottom of the stairwell and clicked it on. The downstairs chamber was flooded with light, revealing everything in Krane's storage room. Mostly, there was nothing but scattered pages of notes all over the place, along with bits and pieces to old machines. However, in the very back left corner of the room, lying on the upper torso of a headless mannequin, sat the very prize that the brothers had come all the way out into the desert region seeking. Kenta beamed the flashlight onto the Snag Machine and nodded to Hibiki, who hurried forward and removed it, putting on gloves as he went. Without wasting another second, hearts pounding from the pressure, they scurried back up the stairs as fast as their legs could carry them.

"Kenta," panted Hibiki, as he followed his brother back out of the opening in the floor, "weren't you saying the Snag Machine was made of metal? It feels light . . ."

Kenta chanced a glance at the arm-and-chest shaped device in Hibiki's arms, and he felt his stomach plummet at the sight. This Snag Machine was like the Snag Machine he had seen previously in shape only. The whole thing was made of plastic, wires and all, and had no movable parts to it at all. It was a fake.


	26. Chapter 26

"Put it down, Hibiki!" Kenta commanded angrily, almost in tears from disappointment. "That thing's no good!" Turning to face Professor Krane, who was still trapped in the room, Kenta glowered at him as rage flared up in his chest. "You cheating bastard," he spat furiously, marching the frightened scientist into a corner while shining the flashlight directly in his eyes. "Are you proud of your little decoy? Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Teeth gritted together, his vision a haze of red, Kenta reached out and grabbed Krane by the knot of his tie. He pulled the terrified older man up close to his face, until the two of them were almost breathing down each others' nostrils. Kenta's face was livid with wrath. "Well, I'll bet you didn't think this part through," he grated through his teeth, shaking Krane by the neck. "Now you tell me where the real Snag Machine is. I must save Bakuphoon. Tell me, you worm, or I'll punish you-"

"Megahorn!"

Snorlax, who'd been blocking the door, was suddenly pitched across the room like a giant stuffed doll. Bolt reacted instantly, pulling Hibiki out of harm's way, and Snorlax landed on Krane's desk and crushed it with a great smashing noise. All eyes turned to the cleared doorway, where three guards and a Heracross stood in attack poses. The stag beetle pokémon, unbelievably, had taken Snorlax under its horn and flung him like a catapult with its strength. Now Snorlax lay fallen, defeated, and Hibiki raised his Heavy Ball to recall him with a shocked expression. Kenta clenched his fist.

 _No! We will NOT be defeated here!_

"Bolt!" he commanded, pointing at the Heracross, "Aerial Ace, go!" Instantaneously, the Salamence lifted off and hurled into Heracross with wings spinning like a propeller blade. The enemy pokémon was sent hurling backwards into the laboratory's exterior glass wall, where it shattered through and dropped out of sight in a rain of shards. One of the guards turned and dashed away to attend to his fallen pokémon, while the other two raised their own pokeballs to attack Bolt. Out flew a Gardevoir and a Rhydon, and before their feet had touched the floor, Kenta gave his next command.

"Earthquake!"

At once, Bolt shot up at the ceiling with one clap of his wings. With another enormous flap motion, he dive-bombed between the guards' two pokémon and smashed the ground on all fours, sending a devastating tremor through the laboratory. Every glass item in sight shattered with a deafening noise, and everyone covered their heads as a lethal rain of shards sprinkled down from above. Gardevoir and Rhydon lay motionless on the ground, their nerves shot from the relentless rattling. Kenta hurried up to Bolt's side and patted the Salamence's cheek, a fierce smile on his face. "Amazing work as always, my friend." He looked around. "Now, is anyone else going to get in the way, or can we leave without causing further damage?"

"Hey!"

Kenta turned around; Hibiki was waving insistently at him while holding Professor Krane by the shoulder. The professor himself lay semi-conscious on the floor, groaning softly as he lay with his head on Hibiki's knee. "Should we take this guy?" asked Hibiki hurriedly, looking fearfully at Kenta. "He'll know where the real Snag Machine is. He can still helpful to us!"

For just a moment, Kenta was all for the idea. But something stopped him from scooping up the professor and commanding Bolt to fly for all he was worth, a powerful guilt that overcame even the intensity of the situation at hand. Indeed, Krane would have been useful, but there was something more important to be considered: consistency. Kenta had to be consistent with his beliefs. All was for naught if he fell short here.

"No." Kenta beckoned Hibiki away from Krane, to himself, his shoulders slumped. "We can't do it. We can't kidnap him."

"What? But . . . but why not?"

Kenta looked at the ground, feeling the weight of defeat pressing the energy out of him. "Because if we stole him, he'd be right about us. And we're not thieves. Isn't it bad enough that we're liars?"

"Wha-?" Hibiki stared at him. "Kenta, what are you saying? It's okay to borrow their Snag Machine, but not their professor?"

"It was never okay to 'borrow' their Snag Machine," said Kenta bitterly. "Both of us knew that from the start. And look what it's caused. There has to be a better way."

"Yes, look what it's caused," came a new voice from out of nowhere. "Glaceon, Ice Beam attack, now!" Suddenly, immediately, a chilling ray of frost struck Bolt in the chest just below his neck, and worked its way rapidly down the rest of his scaly body. The Salamence gave a high-pitched roar of surprise and agonizing pain, which faded into nothing as the freeze stiffened his throat.

"BOLT!" cried Kenta in alarm, running up to his enormous winged pokémon as it collapsed to the ground. "No! Bolt, hold on!"

"You. Miserable. Fraud." The redheaded young man from earlier, Maikeru, strode up to the fallen trainer and pokémon with a look of irked composure on his face. A sky-blue Eevee evolution trotted at his side with an icy mist surrounding its body: a Glaceon. Maikeru stood over Kenta from three feet away, with one hand on his hip and the other under his chin as he looked down in displeasure. "So, you weren't an officer at all," he said in disgust. "And you thought you'd attack my home and my mentor, in hopes of stealing the gift that keeps on giving to all pokémon thieves. Well, you got what was coming to you."

Maikeru's eyes flicked to Bolt's unmoving form. "I regret doing that to this dragon, though. Such a fine-looking pokémon he is. If you'd just given him up to G.R.I.P. like a good person, he wouldn't have had to endure my Glaceon's Ice Beam." His eyes narrowed. "He didn't deserve it. You should've taken the blow. Or perhaps your little partner there, who took advantage of poor Kaoru's kindness. Tsk, but I'm wasting my words. All outlaws know the difference between good and evil in their hearts, but they choose to be evil anyway."

"We're not evil!" protested Hibiki, meeting Maikeru eye-to-eye. "We didn't want this! All we wished to do was-"

"Don't." Maikeru put out his hand, indicating Hibiki to stop. "Don't feed me that. I've faced more criminals than you have hairs on your head, budd. You have a Master Ball. You have illegal uber pokémon. And you have about seven billion yen's worth of damages against you. You are beyond my sympathy."

"There's no point in talking to him," said Kenta, getting up slowly with a morbid smile on his face. "He's convinced of himself in his mind. I'll tell you what; I've never heard anyone more right, and yet wrong."

"Oh, am I right, but wrong?" asked Maikeru half-interestedly, as he and Hibiki watched Kenta recall Bolt into the Friend Ball. "Do tell me what you mean, before the guards take you away to court."

Kenta met his eyes, still bearing the same smile. "No."

"No?"

Hibiki straightened up as Kenta's eyes flicked back to him. "There's something I've been meaning to show you for a while," he called to his brother, holding up the Master Ball for him to see. "But I've somehow always managed to avoid it until now. You might've been wondering where I get my boldness from; the certainty I won't be hurt by wild pokémon, or defeated by trainers around my level. Last but not least, you'll now see why electrical assaults don't work against me. After this, your confidence will be renewed, and you'll have the strength to fight another day."

Maikeru raised an eyebrow, staring at Kenta's Master Ball. "What in the hell are you talking abou-?" he said, then stopped short at the sight of his opponent's posture. Kenta had his arm back and knees bent, and before Maikeru could say another word, he threw the Master Ball high into the air. For a moment, it whirled gracefully in an upward ascent, then it exploded open. All at once, the atmosphere was filled with blinding light, and the air crackled with the sound of electrical power. Maikeru stared up at the wonder above his head, jaw hanging, unable to pull his eyes away.

"Impossible . . . how can it be? How could you have-?"

Hibiki gazed up at the winged beacon of golden light, lost for words, able only to repeat Maikeru's words in his mind. _Impossible . . . impossible . . . impossible . . ._

Above everyone's heads, bathed like an angel in golden light, hovered the legendary bird of thunder and lightning, Zapdos.

"You never stood a chance against us, from the very moment you first laid eyes on us," Kenta boomed, making sure his voice was heard above the pressure-filled environment. He advanced on Maikeru, as blindingly bright forks of mini-lightning shot down from Zapdos's body above and illuminated the left side of his face. From the legendary bird's wing beats, gusts of powerful wind whipped all through the insides of the lab, making reality to anyone present that the place was experiencing an internal thunderstorm.

"Yes," Kenta continued, hair whipping in his incensed face, "at any time, we could have summoned this calamity to destroy you. Even now, what is stopping me from giving the order, and taking away everything you have? Nothing but the feeling of already knowing what it's like."

"Glaceon, Ice Beam!" shouted Maikeru, and almost before he'd completed the command, a freezing blue ray shot from his pokémon's mouth. But Zapdos seemed to have seen it coming and whirled out of harm's way; it had used Detect. The next instant, a bolt of lightning flashed down through the hole in the ceiling and lit Glaceon up like a torch. An explosive thunderclap resounded, rattling the very walls of the place with the force of its noise. Everyone, even Kenta, had to squeeze their eyes shut and push their hands over their ears from the intensity of the attack, and when they'd looked up, there was Glaceon twitching on the floor, its nervous system fried.

 _Alright, that's enough chat . . . time to escape._

Kenta beckoned Hibiki to his side, glaring down at the fallen pokémon as he did so. Maikeru stared at his ice pokémon in horror and disbelief, and only looked up when the colossal Zapdos landed in front of him. Kenta leaped up onto the legendary bird's back and pulled Hibiki up with his arm, then glanced back one more time at Maikeru. He was surprised to see that the latter wasn't looking at him, but had become distracted by a movement in the background. The elevator at the rear of the lobby had opened, and a blue-haired girl about eleven years old charged out with a concerned face.

"Big brother! What's happening? What is that?"

"No, Jovi!" shouted Maikeru, looking severely alarmed. "Get back! It's not safe!"

"Is that your sister?" asked Hibiki, clinging to Kenta's waist from his seat on Zapdos's rear. As the great golden bird lifted off, he cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted a departing message as loud as he could.

"We're not evil! You have to believe me!"

Then they were gone, streaking towards a dark, cloudy sky that had been clear minutes ago.


	27. Chapter 27

The flight home was brutal. Zapdos, being significantly faster than even Bolt, tore through the skies at a faster speed and a higher altitude than either of the Nyna brothers had ever experienced before. It was a monstrous task just to continue breathing, as the chilling winds shot past them and threatened to numb their grips to nothing. Yet Kenta refused to have Zapdos slow down to a bearable pace, and it wasn't until they were somewhere in the northern Johto region that he finally guided the lightning bird down. They landed in a somewhat mountainous region with a great lake laid out a half-mile away. The moment Zapdos had touched the ground and folded his wings, Kenta and Hibiki slid off and fell flat upon the dirt. Kenta breathed in great gulps of air, his body trying to catch up from the thin atmosphere of the sky, and Hibiki clutched his stomach and was sick on the ground.

It was a while until anyone spoke, and Kenta finally managed a faint "good work, Zapdos" before recalling the legendary bird back into his Master Ball. Hibiki exerted a great effort to roll away from his repulsive splatter of vomit, and the two brothers found themselves laying side-by-side, staring up at the sky overhead. There was another long silence before they communicated again.

"You have a Zapdos."

"That is right."

"The Master Ball wasn't empty."

"Nope."

"It contained a Zapdos that whole time."

"Yep."

"Where are we?" Hibiki asked softly, too tired to be surprised anymore, tasting the unpleasant burn of stomach acid within his throat as he spoke. Kenta moved his head slightly in an attempt to gaze at Hibiki, but he couldn't do it and just looked back at the sky at an angle. "Route 42," he muttered, "probably right next to Mount Mortar. I thought I saw Ecruteak City just a little bit back there."

"Oh." Hibiki was quiet for a minute longer. "How come we're here?"

"We can't go back to Violet City on a Zapdos in broad daylight. So I picked a spot in the middle of nowhere." Kenta sat up and looked around. A flash of memory burst into his mind, and he smiled slightly. "Well, I guess it's not really a nowhere, at least not to me. See, this was about the spot where Marina, Juni'chi and I rescued a Raikou from Team Rocket three years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday."

"Raikou, huh?" uttered Hibiki, sitting up also so that he was still at head level with his brother. "You must have an affinity with Electric-type legendaries." He let out his tongue, hoping the air would put off the taste of vomit somewhat. Kenta glanced at him. "You okay, kiddo? You look awfully pale."

"Yeah. I threw up a little, but I'm all right." Hibiki looked back at him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes . . . no. No, I'm not." Kenta pulled up his knees to his chest and dropped his head between them exhaustedly. "Remember how I was saying earlier this morning that it feels the whole world is against me?" he groaned miserably. "That feeling is returning to me again." He buried his face in his knees. "I was so angry when we failed to get that Snag Machine! I don't think I've ever been that mad in my life. It wasn't even so much the fact that we'd gone through all that trouble and preparation for nothing." His voice shook. "It's just that every person we met was an enemy! Krane. Those guards. That Maikeru kid . . . did you see how he reacted when his sister suddenly joined in? He was frantic for her well-being." Kenta clutched his hair in his fists on the sides of his head. "Like I was going to hurt her. As if I was some sort of monster. That hurts, it hurts so badly . . ."

"Kenta . . ." Hibiki put a consoling arm around his brother's shoulder, hoping to talk some sense back into him. "Look- be reasonable. We couldn't go in there under disguise, and just expect them to be friendly after coming out and demanding the Snag Machine."

"It seems almost everyone had an argument against me," came Kenta's muffled, trembling voice as he continued to sit in his withdrawn, upright fetal position. "It takes its toll after a while, when you present your case over and over again and everybody doubts or disagrees with you. Even if your argument is perfect, irrefutable, it just feels like the ground is crumbling beneath your feet." Kenta dropped backwards, once again flopping his torso spread-eagle as he gazed at the sky.

Something purple at the height of his vision caught his attention; there was a creature behind them. Leaping immediately to his feet and twisting around in one quick motion, chest tight with alarm, Kenta went for the Master Ball in his pocket as his eyes fell upon the floating purple pokémon. He relaxed; Hibiki, however, bounded behind him and held him tightly by both shoulders, panic-stricken. "What? What? What is it? What is that thing?"

"It's a ghost pokémon," Kenta explained calmly, taking in its appearance. It reminded him of a scrawny woman, possibly a banshee, wearing an enormous wizard hat. "A pokedex fourth-generation called Mismagius, the evolution of Misdreavus. This one seems to be trained . . . I don't think it's usual for ghost pokémon to be out in the middle of the day like this."

"You've got that right."

Both Kenta and Hibiki glanced over in the direction that the challenging female voice had come from. Coming out of a nearby forest of pine trees, into their field, was the second blue-haired girl Hibiki had seen in one hour. She appeared to be right around his brother's age, though maybe a little smaller in height and body mass. Something about her voice rang familiar in Hibiki's ears, but Kenta's eyes widened in disbelief as he recognized her immediately. The two brothers stared at her as the Mismagius floated casually back to its master, and the girl glared at her ghost pokémon. "What's up with you? I told you to cast Hypnosis on them! They're dangerous!"

"You were going to have her hypnotize us?" asked Kenta weakly, pointing at the Mismagius. "Seriously? It's a darn good thing your former Misdreavus recognized me, then . . . Marina."

The girl, Marina, stared back at him in utter shock, realization dawning on her face at the sound of his voice. "K-Kenta?! But . . . no, it can't be. No, you're dead!"

"Wait, Kenta," said Hibiki, yanking on his sleeve and pointing at her. "THAT'S Marina? The girl who kept calling me on the phone all the time?"

Kenta glanced down at him, looking a little affronted. "Hold on- she's been calling you?"

Marina gave a small shriek of realization, pointing right back at Hibiki. "Wait a minute! You're Hibiki? Hibiki Nyna, Little Kenta?" She gave an even louder cry, and before Hibiki knew it, Marina was pulling both him and Kenta into a tight and relentless hug, exhibiting remarkable strength for a girl her size. Almost as quickly, she was off them, looking horrified. "But . . . but even if you're not dead," she reasoned in stutters, looking at Kenta with inquisitive eyes, "why do you look like that? How come you're in Brendan Birch's clothing? What happened to your red sweatshirt and your G/S cap? And why-"

"Marina," Kenta mumbled, his face a very deep shade of red after what she'd just done, "I don't quite know how to tell you this, but . . . now's not really a good time for us to be catching up . . ."

He'd expected her to protest, be offended at his apparent indifference, or possibly have her Mismagius blast him on the spot with Psybeam, but Marina instead nodded and held up a pokeball. "You're right. We'd better get out of sight. Waniwani, go!" She threw the pokeball at the lake's edge, and from it burst a colossal, muscle-bound blue pokémon; a Feraligator. The gator pokémon dove into the frigid water with an impressive splash, and Marina took a running leap onto its shoulders. "Come on!" she called insistently, waving the brothers over. "Before anyone else gets here!"

Kenta didn't argue, but he and Hibiki exchanged a confused glance and followed Marina's bidding. As soon as they had boarded their pokémon ferry, the Feraligator took off through the water, bound for an islet towards the back center of the lake. Hibiki glanced back; nobody was chasing them, but it felt to him as though they were running away from someone. Once they reached the islet, Marina led them directly into a cave opening under Mount Mortar, apparently wanting to waste no time in getting under cover. They had gone barely a few steps into the cave when Marina stopped, and signaled for them to sit down.

"Okay," she said edgily, sounding a little out of breath. "Sorry, but I've got to check something. If you are Kenta, really, really Kenta . . ." Hibiki watched as she pointed at him; Kenta still looked baffled. "Then what was the name of the machine Team Rocket used to try and capture Raikou three years back?"

Kenta gave a short laugh and scratched the back of his head with an earnest smile on his face. "Sorry," he said, grinning, "I just think it's remarkable, how the nostalgia of that event affected the both of us like this. We come to this area of Johto, and within ten minutes we're remembering the Crystal System."

"That was quite an adventure you must've had," said Hibiki as Marina put her hands to her mouth, stunned. He felt strangely alone all of a sudden, being the only person present who wasn't in on the Raikou incident. True, Kenta had told him about it later over the phone, but it wasn't like he'd been a part of it.

"So it is you . . ." said Marina quietly, her eyes lowered. "I knew it before I'd even heard your voice, when I saw the look of recognition Mismagius was giving you. I always know the signs, when you're nearby." She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes brimming with tears. "But why are you acting like this now? You're back from the dead, and you've completely changed into a- a- a . . . a criminal. What happened to you, Kenta?"

Kenta's eyes widened in alarm at Marina's comment. "What?" he cried, almost in a demanding voice. "What are you talking about, what do you mean, a criminal?"

She didn't answer him, but flung down something pink and electronic on the stone floor, something that resembled a watch, only more advanced: a pokegear. The radio was on, and Marina turned up the volume so that all three people present could hear.

"-still searching from the sky, but no luck so far. This just in, and possibly a clue: a multitude of citizens in Ecruteak City recently reported seeing a gold-colored bird flash through the sky above Tin Tower. Though many of them have stated claims that it's the second coming of Ho-oh, the legendary phoenix of Ecruteak, some admitted the possibility that it may have been a different legendary bird-"

"Oh, crap," breathed Hibiki, looking at Kenta with worry. "Do you think any of them know about Za-"


	28. Chapter 28

Kenta silenced him with a warning glare, but Marina shook her head sadly. "The radio already reported about a double team of rogue trainers on a Zapdos," she murmured. "About half an hour ago, I was listening to the Lucky Number Show on my way down to Goldenrod City when an emergency broadcast from the Orre News Network cut in. They were saying that Krane Laboratories had been blown to pieces by a Brendan Birch imposter and his accomplice, after failing to steal the lab's infamous Snag Machine. In between, they kept going on about how the imposter held a Master Ball, and in it, the legendary Zapdos . . . Kenta, did you really do that?"

"We had to!" Hibiki spoke up resolutely, wanting to defend Kenta. "Taking possession of the Snag Machine was the only way to-" He stopped as Kenta signaled him a second time with a 'that's enough' look. He gazed tiredly into Marina's betrayed face, picked up her pokegear, and navigated quickly and efficiently through it. A picture photo appeared on the screen, with a sixteen-year-old Kenta and a Typhlosion smiling at the camera. In it, Kenta was winking and making a thumbs-up sign, while the Typhlosion held up two fingers just behind his head. Hibiki couldn't tell if it was a V-for-victory sign, or if the fire ferret was giving Kenta bunny ears. The real Kenta handed Marina's pokegear back to her, a solemn look upon his face, and Marina accepted it with more tears, a fist to her mouth. Kenta gave a heavy sigh. "Remember Bakuphoon?"

And then everything spilled out on its own. Kenta told Marina all that he had told Hibiki, starting from his military assignment to investigate Silph Corporation, and ending almost an hour later at the present day. Hibiki jumped in whenever Kenta forgot a certain detail, eager to be helpful, especially now. When the brothers had finished, Marina wasn't crying anymore, but instead staring at the two of them in fascinated awe; a complete turnaround from before.

"And that's why we need the Snag Machine," Kenta was concluding, putting out his hands in a reasoning gesture. "To get Bakuphoon back from G.R.I.P., and every other pokémon like him that was once a trainer's closest-" He stopped and looked down awkwardly; Marina had reached out and taken both of his hands, her eyes sparkling with happiness as she looked at him. Hibiki cleared his throat loudly at her, feeling annoyed for some reason that she was touching his brother. Marina took no notice.

"That is so cool!" she whispered excitedly, sliding closer to Kenta until she was clearly within his personal space. Kenta's face reddened again as her own face drew nearer to his. "So even under G.R.I.P.'s rule, there's still a force of rebel trainers rising up secretly to meet them. And you're their selfless, brave leader! You're like . . . you're like . . ."

"Harry Potter?" suggested Kenta faintly, looking like he might pass out from pressure. Marina's body was almost touching his. Hibiki smirked. "Try Keitaro Urashima instead."

"Wataru!" exclaimed Marina excitedly. Kenta accidentally pushed her off as he suddenly stood up straight, staring at her questioningly. "Wataru Lance?" he repeated, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Marina, there's a limit to every obsession. How exactly am I like that guy?"

"Wataru's cool," said Marina, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And he can do anything!"

"Yeah, well . . ." Kenta turned away, depression threatening to take him once more. "I can't do anything. Not without the Snag Machine."

"Where there's a will, there's a way," said Hibiki determinedly, making a fist and pointing with his finger at the cave entrance. "Now let's get out of here and re-think the plan!"

"Wait!" Marina stopped them. "Johto Sky Patrol might be out there," she explained, walking out of the cave opening first. "Just to be safe, let me have a look-see." A moment later, she waved the brothers over, nodding her head. "It's clear. Where are you going, anyway?"

Kenta put a hand under his chin, thinking. "Where are we going, hmm . . . Bolt and Snorlax are out of the picture until tomorrow morning, and we can't go flying anywhere else with Zapdos. Plus, Ecruteak City is a tourist attraction as is, without the news of a golden bird flying through . . ." Kenta eyed Marina seriously. "How did you find us?"

"Oh, that's easy." Marina smiled. "I was one of the people who saw your Zapdos flash past the Tin Tower. I thought I'd chase you, see if I could capture you, and . . . well . . ." She turned a bit red. "Then I found out it was you."

 _So that's why she told her Mismagius to cast Hypnosis on us,_ thought Hibiki uncomfortably. _Wow. Good thing it was her._

"So . . . that leaves Mahogany Town," reasoned Kenta, looking uncomfortable. "But they said this morning that they were keeping police lookouts posted around, because they'd spied Team Rocket lurking around out there . . ." Turning around suddenly, picking up Hibiki's backpack as he went, Kenta rushed off into the darkness of the cave. Marina watched him go, looking confused. "Where's he off to in such a hurry?"

"He'll be back," said Hibiki casually. "He's just becoming a soldier again."

Sure enough, Kenta bounded out a minute later in his sergeant uniform, looking a hundred percent different than he had as Brendan Birch. Returning the pack to Hibiki, Kenta nodded and beckoned his companions out of the cave. "We're going to take refuge in Mahogany Town for now," he announced, as the three of them reached water's edge. "Marina, thank you. You've been a great help in warning us and hiding us. But after this, you should go back to your life as . . ." Kenta thought for a moment. "You're still going to be an idol trainer, right? You can't be seen with Hibiki and me-"

"What?" said Marina, suddenly looking angry at him. "What are you talking about? Of course I'm coming with you, after everything you told me. I'm in on it now, aren't I?"

Kenta, with a cornered look, glanced to Hibiki for help, but his kid brother only shrugged. "If you didn't want her with us, you should've just said we were criminals to begin with."

"Okay fine, but what if we hurt Marina's image-"

"My image?" she asked, smiling. "I already know how I'll be using my image, now! I can be an idol trainer as you've been an idol trainer, Kenta, and help set the example as you have. Just you watch. We'll have tons more trainers on our side, when the cute and talented Marina takes the stage!"

Kenta stared at her, lost for words, then dropped his head in defeat. "Always the independent spirit, Marina," he groaned. "But can't we be serious for a minute?"

"I am serious." Marina looked directly into his eyes, her face set. "This isn't just your fight, Kenta. G.R.I.P. took Pink-chan, my Wigglytuff. Do you know how painful it is, having to choose from three of your pokémon the one that will go? What if you had three close friends about to be kidnapped by a pedophile, and you knew you could only save two of them? Don't you know how guilty I feel every night, when I remember how betrayed she must feel?"

Marina's expression was intense. Kenta couldn't look at her directly, as he realized just how affected she really was. "All right," he said softly. "I understand. We'll all go to Mahogany Town together."

 _Awfully touchy-feely, this girl,_ thought Hibiki as Marina immediately beamed and clamped his brother in a hug for a second time. He shook off the thought. _Geez, why should this be offending me? She's a nice girl._

Nobody was around when Waniwani the Feraligator entered the lake with his three passengers. As they were ferried slowly towards the distant end of the lake, Hibiki tapped Kenta on the shoulder and addressed him before Marina could start another conversation with him.

"Kenta, I've been meaning to ask . . . how did you manage to capture Zapdos? I mean, I know you used a fail-proof Master Ball, but . . . like, how'd you even find him?"

"Ah, yeah, about that . . ." Kenta smiled nervously and poked his index fingers together as he talked. Marina listened too, from her seat in the front just behind Waniwani's head. "To be fair, I think it was Zapdos who found me."


	29. Chapter 29

In his barely conscious state, Kenta could feel his ruined body rising and falling by weight. Around him, the wind screamed and pushed upon him, threatening to throw him off the side of whatever platform he was lying upon. Yet every time he rolled to the side, he'd feel something long and thick pushing him back to his original spot. Opening his eyes the smallest bit, Kenta noticed that it was a red wing: a Salamence's wing. All at once, he pieced together what must have happened, unimaginable though it must be. Bolt, a Salamence? Had he really done it, had he evolved, and become the Dragonite of the Hoenn Region?

But he, Kenta, should not be surprised. On the day he'd captured Bolt, he had succeeded only because the little Bagon had first thrown himself headfirst off a cliff in Meteor Falls, in attempt to fly. Once the capture and the concussion had passed, Kenta had knelt down to his newest little pokémon and put out his pinky to make a promise. _Train and become strong with us_ , Kenta had told the young Bolt, _and one day we will fly together_. And they'd pinky-swore, Kenta with a finger, and Bolt, with his teeth. Later, Kenta joked about it being the most painful promise he'd ever have to keep.

How fitting it was. Bolt was now flying for the very first time in his life, and he, Kenta, was in more pain than ever. It felt as though his abdominals were straining, without him flexing them, to get out the bullet that wasn't there. He'd been pierced straight through the back, and out his stomach, so that there were two holes in his body that formed a mini-tunnel right through. One of his hands had found the spot on its own, and lay pressed against it in attempt to keep the life-blood inside. Staunching the blood flow didn't seem to be working though; he continued to bleed regardless.

Kenta didn't know how long it took for Bolt to reach where he was going. Time had no meaning anymore. Nothing really did, with certain death approaching. He'd lost too much blood. He had no more sense of touch, and his other senses seemed on their way out as well. When they had at last touched the ground again and Kenta rolled off Bolt's back, he didn't feel any impact. He didn't even feel the temperature around them, although judging by the light snowfall, it must've been freezing. And somewhat to his relief, he was starting to be numb of the stinging pain in his chest, which now felt no worse than a Weedle's poison.

Yet there was fear in his heart which kept him from embracing the sweet relief death seemed to be promising him. The American missionary that had come to New Bark Town years back, the one whom he'd brushed off at the time, had mentioned something about dying that he had never given much thought to until this very moment. Death, he'd said, wasn't the end. Anyone who died went on, but only in one of two directions: towards the creator of the universe, or away from that same creator. Those who had never known him in life, and thus could never thank him for the sun's warmth, the delicious variety of food tastes, the vast multitude of the world's scents and flamboyant colors, and so on- these people would not search for him in death.

Why was Kenta wondering about him now?

Perhaps it was because his senses were fading. 'You don't know what you got 'til it's gone,' the saying went, but Kenta felt a sudden appreciation for life, even now. Why make promises, why go on living for a better tomorrow, why create bonds with people and pokémon, if everyone was just going to die anyway? Because . . . what if, _what if_ , the creator reflected himself in everybody? What if he was reflected in everything? What if he'd always been there, and Kenta had always just been too preoccupied to notice? One thing was for sure- he certainly wasn't preoccupied with anything now.

 _I just want to live,_ he found himself thinking. _If I were to live a little longer, I could know whether or not I was created by someone for a purpose, or if I'm just here because I'm here. But . . ._

But the latter possibility was depressing to him, and Kenta wished for death if it was indeed the ultimate reality. On the other hand . . . if he did live for a purpose, he'd fulfill it to his best ability. And during that time and afterward, he'd seek earnestly after that one, the one who'd created him to fulfill such a purpose.

...

"Hold it!" Hibiki interrupted, and Kenta jumped out of his trance from his storytelling. He and Marina looked at Hibiki in annoyance, but the latter took no notice. "Kenta, I haven't forgotten what you said before! You told me you'd survived because you'd been shot by Arcada, and you didn't want to die, betrayed. And now you're saying-"

"I wasn't lying," replied Kenta defensively. "To me, Arcada represents the government's betrayal best. I had a will to live so I could fulfill my purpose, and that purpose is to come back from nothing and defeat corrupt authority." He thought for a moment. "And Arcada, if I'm able to face him in battle."

"Can we get back to the story now?" asked Marina, an enchanted look still in her eyes from Kenta's vocal memoir. "I wanna hear how Kenta survived!"

"Yeah, and when does Zapdos come in to all this?" added Hibiki.

Kenta raised his eyebrow at Hibiki. "If you would kindly stop interrupting, I was just getting to that," he said pleasantly, his voice nevertheless dripping with sarcasm. "So anyway, I noticed that for someone on the brink of death, my mind was functioning awfully well . . ."

...

All at once, Kenta felt something powerful and gripping jolt through his body, and he sprang up from his prostrate posture like a startled animal. His senses, which a moment ago had been as faint as if he'd fallen asleep, now roared to the forefront of his being. Around him, he felt the frigid air of the mountaintop climate, and he heard the howl of high winds. His eyes beheld a dazzling golden creature looming before him, with outstretched wings and crackling bolts of electricity snapping all around its glowing body. Standing between the creature and Kenta, Bolt the Salamence bared his teeth and bellowed a ferocious roar at it that echoed through the mountaintops. And was he imagining it, or was there a hint of lamentation in the dragon's bellow?

Kenta took his eyes off the immediate situation for just a moment, and glanced down at his gut, where the bullet hole was . . . or should have been. His eyes widened in astonishment. Nothing was there now but new skin with a red patch around it, and some sort of colorless liquid substance. Was it water? No . . . it felt warm. Even in the frigid cold, its temperature stayed constant.

 _But . . . how?_

His eyes traveled upwards, stopping as they caught sight of Bolt's face. The Salamence's eyes glistened with tears, and they fell from his face as freely as rain. But Kenta only beheld the sight for a moment, and then Bolt charged furiously at the golden creature, his head lowered like a battering ram. It fell backwards as they made contact, then gained altitude and hovered above the dragon with its body fully extended. Kenta's heart skipped a beat as he recognized at last what this deadly, magnificent creature was.

 _Zapdos, the thunder bird. I'm actually seeing Zapdos face-to-face._

From Zapdos's outstretched wings, vines of electricity crackled and snapped in a dangerous light show, then suddenly merged as one bolt of lightning. Kenta's pokémon, Bolt, barely managed to throw up a Protect shield quickly enough as the electric power swarmed around his monstrous frame. Kenta watched for a moment in dumbfounded awe, then shook his head rapidly and slapped himself in the face. _What's wrong with me?_ he thought angrily. _Bolt only just evolved; he's barely adjusted to his Salamence body! He's no match for a legendary bird!_

Looking around wildly for something to defend with, Kenta's eyes fell upon something purple and round, lying forgotten in the snow near Bolt's footprints. Recognizing the item, he dove and snatched it up, not caring that some freezing snow had gotten on his bare hands. Righting himself, Kenta twisted around and faced the battle once more between the two gigantic winged pokémon. He gritted his teeth.

 _This isn't a normal clash. This is life or death. If I don't interfere, we're done for._

And before he knew it, the Master Ball had left his hand, whirling fast and hard at Zapdos and striking the glowing bird upon its right wing. Almost immediately, the surroundings grew dim as Zapdos disappeared into the capture ball and it fell to the ground. Bolt let off his Protect shield, and both trainer and pokémon looked on as the Master Ball rattled violently back and forth on the snowy ground. For thirty seconds the vigorous shaking went on, and a couple of times, the Master Ball even sprang off the ground as though it had a life of its own. Thirty more seconds passed, a full minute, and still the Master Ball vibrated as though it would explode at any moment. Kenta hardly dared to breathe, and as he watched the Master Ball continue to tremble, a disturbing question pounded in his mind. What if this doesn't work? What if the Master Ball can't take it?

He didn't know how long he waited. The Zapdos within the ball continued to fight valiantly for a longer time than he'd ever thought possible to cage a pokémon. But at one point, the ball suddenly stopped quivering. Kenta stared down at it, hardly daring to believe his eyes, but the ball continued to lie dormant for as long as he watched. Then slowly, very slowly, he approached the Master Ball and picked it up, never once taking his eyes off of it, not even to look at his Salamence. He held the ball high, feeling its weight, and not sensing any difference. But he knew better.

 _Unreal. Unimaginable. I'm holding living lightning in my hand._

Kenta finally turned and looked at Bolt, and his dragon pokémon looked back at him, both too stunned to make a sound. Then just as slowly as he'd picked up the Master Ball, Kenta pushed it into his pocket. The spell broke as another sudden realization struck him; his pocket was missing a pokeball. The lockpick was there, and in his left pocket, Bolt's former Everstone and his Luxury Ball, but no normal pokeball. That meant no Bakuphoon either. Had he dropped it somewhere? But how could that be? Bolt's Luxury Ball was tucked safely away; surely he would've shown all the more care for his first and favorite pokémon, his Typhlosion, when storing his ball.

 _. . . Unless it was warped away by Silhouette's registration unit._

Of course! How had he not seen that coming? His own police force boasted the same teleportation technology that warped every seventh pokémon to the PC storage system, whenever a trainer's party was full, after a capture. Both pokémon he'd registered as an officer, Bakuphoon and Bolt, could be taken from him at a moment's notice, teleported away to the base while in their respective balls. He had shown severe insubordination just before getting shot; small wonder Baku was gone!

 _Wait a minute._ Kenta's eyes widened in realization. _Bolt is still with me . . . I never recalled him into his Luxury Ball!_ His large eyes narrowed. _And I never can again._

Reaching into his pocket, Kenta withdrew the Luxury Ball, looking at it with mixed feelings. _I'll just have to destroy Bolt's ball,_ he thought. _To show Silhouette that I'm cutting my ties with them. But . . . but something still bothers me about doing this._

He looked at Bolt, who was still watching him. The Salamence's face was difficult to read, but his head was tilted. Uncertain of what he could be thinking about, Kenta held up the Luxury Ball for his pokémon to see. "See this?" he murmured. "This ball used to be the symbol of our pact, and also of our friendship. But now it's become corrupt; a symbol of the government's hold on us. I love it, and I hate it, for what it is." He cringed inwardly, but pressed on. "I'm going to crush it. You may not understand what I'm doing at first, but just know that I am forever your friend."

Kenta dropped the Luxury Ball in the snow, between himself and Bolt. Slowly and deliberately he walked forward, keeping his eyes locked with Bolt's, who looked back at him with an unusual softness. He'd heard somewhere that dragons were more intelligent than most animals, even amongst pokémon, and he wondered if Bolt understood what was going on all along. Feeling the Luxury Ball under his right shoe, Kenta tramped down hard upon it, and it cracked to bits like a Christmas tree ornament. Ignoring the feel of the shattered ball, Kenta wrapped his arms around Bolt's neck and held him tightly, tenderly, as a beloved dog. There'd been no time before, but it had just occurred to him that he'd never thanked Bolt for saving his life.

"Bolt," he said, "you were all I had left. And you came through for me. I don't deserve you." Letting go of the Salamence's neck, Kenta looked him seriously, straight in the eye. "It looks like we're in a tight spot, buddy. Until further notice, we're gonna have to keep a low profile. That means you especially, Bolt. You're much bigger than me, so you'll have to find a place to hide until we can get you a new ball. Find somewhere warm, somewhere that the snow won't be able to . . . able to . . ."

Without warning, his body suddenly collapsed. He wouldn't wake up again for three days.


	30. Chapter 30

A/N: Hey dudes, I apologize for not having a story segment up yesterday. I don't have a good excuse, because most of Corrupt Authority is actually finished, and I just need to work out the ending at this time. I'll continue daily updates to the end, but I may be late to typing out the finale itself. Incidentally, we're about at the halfway point. Again, sorry for my irresponsibility.

...

"I think after I went down, Bolt flew me to Henna Villa," Kenta finished, with a thoughtful frown on his face. The three of them, Kenta, Hibiki, and Marina, had long since arrived on the eastern shore of the lake, and they sat in a circle, the other two listening intently. Hibiki raised his hand, as if he were still in class. "So, um, how come you passed out?" he asked. Kenta shrugged. "Probably one of two things. Either my spark back to life had worn off, or I was thrown from blood loss."

Hibiki grinned. "Whatever way, you stayed alive. Sounds to me like the Master flat-out saved your ass that time."

"You know, runt, for a born-again Christian, you can be pretty cheeky sometimes."

"Kenta, you were lucky," chimed Marina, holding up a finger. "You may not have known this, but it's said that the tears of a lamenting pokémon can bring you back to life. I think Bolt may have healed your fatal injury, and Zapdos got your heart pumping again."

"Maybe." Kenta shrugged again. "With Bolt, it's hard to make out any of his emotions other than battle fury. That was certainly the only time I've ever seen him cry. Whether his tears healed me or not, I don't know, but I'm certainly happy he was that concerned for me." He put a hand on his chest, wincing. "Now, as for Zapdos's little pick-me-up, THAT hurt like hell for weeks afterward. If there was a god behind that, he has no sense of delicacy."

Kenta got up from the ground, stretched his arms, and brushed dirt off the backside of his pants. "Well, that's enough rest. We can talk while we walk, just watch out for police."

Hibiki and Marina followed him obediently, though Marina wasn't finished with her questions. By the time they had reached Mahogany Town, conversation had switched from training Zapdos to Kenta's choice of disguise. "So," Marina curiously, "you never really told me why you were Brendan Birch . . ."

"Yeah, not a whole lot of thought really went into that one," admitted Kenta, choosing a town back road that led around behind the upcoming houses. "Sometime after I left Henna Villa, I decided I'd need a new name. Something that would succeed in sparking a revolution. So sometime later, when I was shopping for food, I came across a Hot Topic-ish store selling Halloween costumes at half-price. And boom, there it was. Brendan's choice clothing, all kept together in a neat little set."

"How did you acquire the money to afford even a half-price costume set?" asked Hibiki skeptically.

Kenta glanced back at him. "In case you forgot, dear brother, before the military I battled pokémon for a living. How many trainers do you think were able to beat Bolt?"

Hibiki was about to reply when Kenta's eyes suddenly widened and he jumped backwards. The three of them, Hibiki, Kenta, and Marina, had just been about to emerge from behind a small house, but now they crouched tightly together as Kenta put a finger to his lips and shot his fellows a warning glare. Hibiki listened, and he heard two sets of footsteps slowly walking nearby. From their voices, it appeared to be two policewomen chatting with each other about something. Closing his eyes, he made out their words as they walked by the hiding spot.

"-can't imagine where he managed to get a Master Ball from! That boy is no ordinary crook, that's for sure."

"Haven't we gotten any fingerprints from him, yet?"

"Nope, not even on the fake Snag Machine. Our slippery little weasel must've been wearing gloves."

"Hmm. Could he be dangerous?"

"Potentially. Rumor has it that this is the same felon who stole Takinawa's badge and released his pokémon a week ago."

"We can ask him later, to find out for certain."

"Mm. Say . . . they keep going on about the Birch imposter, but personally, I'm wondering about that little guy who was with him."

"The one with the Snorlax?"

"Yeah, the accomplice. How many pokémon did he actually have? How many are those two smuggling around?"

"I'd like to know what else those children had on them. A Snorlax . . . a Salamence . . . and Zapdos-! What's next, another Mew clone?"

The officers' voices faded away, and Kenta turned around with a haunted look on his face. He was as white as a pillow. "That," he murmured, "was chilling. How many times in life do you eavesdrop on a conversation by accident, and find out it's about you?"

"Well it _is_ the latest news," said Marina uncomfortably. "I'll bet a lot of other people are talking about it, too."

Hibiki lowered his eyes and tried to imagine just how many people could be speaking of them at the very moment. The image of a large crowd appeared in his mind's eye, and with it, echoes of their fantasy conversations. How many approved of the news, and how many were appalled, he couldn't tell. Certainly, he couldn't imagine the media portraying the incident in a positive light. Two rogue trainers, one of them underage, breaking into a laboratory to steal a thieving tool, and then leaving it in ruins . . . it just didn't strike him as something heroes would do.

"Where are we going to hide that the cops won't find us?" Hibiki asked Kenta. His brother turned and, to his surprise, gave him a reassuring grin. He hadn't seen one of those in a while. "Oh, don't worry. I've had a particular place in mind all along. Remember what they were saying on the radio this morning?"

Hibiki thought for a moment, and it came to him. "Are you talking about those guys dressed up as Rockets?"

"Presto. Those guys skulking around here, they didn't just come out of nowhere and disappear back into it." Kenta crouched lower and started forward, ducking around the next building. Hibiki and Marina followed in suspenseful curiosity, and Kenta pointed around the corner for them to see. Just across the street was a little store, with a sign posted on the window that read "while visiting Mahogany Town try a Ragecandybar!" under an illustration of an angry-looking Gyarados. Kenta nodded his head. "That's the one. Come on, let's go get some chocolate."

"Hold it!" hissed Marina, grabbing Kenta by the back of his officer's jacket. She pulled him close, ignoring his look of confused bewilderment, and rapped him lightly on the nose with her finger. "Are you saying we're about to go willy-nilly into . . . into a Rocket hideout?" she sputtered disbelievingly. Kenta looked at Hibiki, who merely glanced away, and somewhat timidly turned back to Marina. "Er . . . well, yes."

She stared at him, flabbergasted.

"Team Rocket nearly killed our pokémon- and us- during the Crystal System incident. They hate us. And now you want to walk straight into their den?"

Kenta gave her a reproachful look. "You see, this is why I discouraged you from coming with us," he said bluntly. "There's no more being picky when choosing your allies, don't you understand? We're all in this mess together, saints and scoundrels alike, and we need to learn to work together if we're going to emerge victorious."

Marina's face broke into tearful misery, and it reminded Hibiki of a little kid who'd just been yelled at by a parent. Kenta sensed it too, and softened his expression hastily. "I'm sorry," he followed up. "I still remember our encounter with the Rockets, too. I don't like them at all, but we're out of options."

"I know!" Hibiki perked up. He turned to Marina cheerily, holding a finger in the air. "There's a resistance group forming in Goldenrod Underground. If you want, you can go train with those guys. Me n' Kenta will be going back to see them soon anyway, to check up on their progress."

But Marina shook her head vigorously. "I want to stay with you," she said resolutely, looking once more to Kenta. "At least, until I know you're safe."

"Then hang around this spot," answered Kenta, looking once again at the tiny convenience shop. "If Hibiki and I aren't back in an hour, assume something's wrong and call the police in. If they ask about me, my name is Kuichi and I went in pretending to be a cop so I could scare the Rockets. Can you do that?"

"Where do you think this stuff up?" Hibiki asked Kenta, impressed and a bit disturbed. Kenta shrugged. "Practice makes perfect."

Marina groaned, and slid down the side of the house into sitting posture. "Fine, I'll do it," she said. "But I won't like it." She pulled out a pokeball, and in a flash of light, Mismagius was floating in their midst once more. Marina faced her pokémon sternly. "Mismagius, you've got a job. Go with Kenta wherever he's headed, and stay invisible. Watch over them, in case anything bad happens."

"Mis," squeaked the banshee pokémon, nodding its understanding. Kenta smiled. "Thank you, Marina. We'll be fine now."

Hibiki poked his head around the side of the building and looked around for any more patrolling guards. When he didn't see any, he crept cautiously out of hiding and hurried over to the shop door, with Kenta right behind him. Hibiki pushed open the door and headed in, and Kenta strode right for the counter in the near left corner of the room. An elderly-looking man sat behind it, wearing black glasses and smoking a pipe casually. He was resting his feet on the countertop, and nearby, a radio with the volume down emitted incomprehensible reports about something . . . most likely, the Krane Laboratories break-in.

"Excuse me," said Kenta, folding his hands on top of the counter and looking at the shopkeeper. The old man looked back at him with an unreadable expression and removed his pipe, blowing out a little smoke. "What is it, Officer?" he asked casually. "Can't find the doughnuts? Or am I under arrest for having my feet up like this?"

"Actually, I was just wondering when the old lady behind the counter got a sex change," replied Kenta smoothly. The old man pulled down his glasses a little and looked at Kenta with a somewhat disoriented scowl; clearly he hadn't been expecting this answer from a cop. Kenta pointed over his shoulder at Hibiki, who was busy inspecting a shelf of merchandise. "Sorry, just kidding. The real reason we're here is to meet with somebody downstairs. The trapdoor is right about where he's standing, correct?"

Now the shopkeeper was truly baffled. He stood straight up, pushing his black glasses up his forehead and stared at Kenta as though he'd never seen anyone like him before. "How did you-?" he began, but Kenta silently cut him off by removing his hat and wig. His hair fell around his shoulders, and the shopkeeper's mouth opened and closed in a rapid tremble as he fought to keep up with what was happening before his eyes.

"You're . . . you're him, aren't you?"

"I'm Brendan Birch, yes," said Kenta, giving the man a polite smile. "Now if we could please go down, I'd really like to talk to some of the people in that base. I've been down there before already, so don't worry. Your secret's safe."

Behind him, Hibiki gave a sudden yelp of shock and leaped away. Kenta turned around and watched as a head emerged from the floor, covered by a robber mask. "It's okay, Lan," he said to the dumbfounded shopkeeper. "We've been listening to everything. Let young 'Brendan' down, so we can give him a proper welcome."

"I don't like the sound of that," said Hibiki nervously, looking at Kenta with tension-filled eyes. Kenta gave him another encouraging smile. "If worst comes to worst," he said, "I still hold living lightning in my hands. Let's go join the party."

Feeling not altogether reassured, Hibiki followed Kenta down through their second hidden trapdoor in two hours. An eruption of cheers greeted the brothers as they reached the bottom of the stairs, and the Rocket who had beckoned Kenta down held out something shiny for him. "Here. Thanks for letting me borrow that."

Hibiki, who was almost paralyzed by the number of underground Rocket members gathered in the room, nevertheless glanced over to see what Kenta could've possibly let a pokémon gangster borrow. The lockpick disappeared into Kenta's pocket, and he looked at Hibiki with a guilty grin. "Yeah, I had a little something to do with this," he muttered, so only Hibiki would hear. "Still, I never thought I'd see the day when I would actually be welcomed by these guys."


	31. Chapter 31

"The double team!" announced a man Hibiki didn't recognize, coming forward with his arms held high in victory, clapping over his head. "Kenta Nyna, and his young cloaked assistant. So good of you to drop by!"

A second uproar of cheering came from the crowd of Rockets. Kenta waited until they had quieted down, holding a neutral expression on his face. "So you knew we were coming?" he asked conversationally. "I mean, you had the welcoming committee in position and everything. What's your secret?"

"Nothing ingenious," came a calm male voice from the back of the crowd. "Just the usual sound amplifier. We hear everything within half a mile's radius."

At the sound of the man's voice, Kenta suddenly tensed beside Hibiki. Looking at him, Hibiki's nerves heightened; Kenta's eyes had reduced themselves to slits, and his face had become a mask of fury. He was glaring daggers at the man who had spoken, whose hair, Hibiki noticed, was long and dyed white. They stared at each other with evident loathing- or at least, Kenta burned with revulsion, while the Rocket simply looked back in cold dislike.

"Basho," said Kenta, spitting the name out detestfully, "you soulless monster."

"Do I sense hypocrisy?" responded the Rocket, Basho, airlessly. "Do these words come from the same person who was just saying we need to work together?"

"Kenta, who is he?" whispered Hibiki, so that only his brother would hear. Kenta didn't take his eyes off Basho, but replied in a voice loud enough that all would hear. "He's one of the two men who were in charge of the Crystal System during the Raikou incident. When the machine malfunctioned, Baku nearly died because of him." Kenta glowered at Basho, who still simply gazed, almost boredly, back at him. "So, Basho, whatever happened to your boyfriend? Did Buson have to go work with someone else when you got demoted for your failure?"

Basho didn't respond, but glanced for a moment at another Rocket who had signaled something at him. A few seconds of awkward silence passed, then the Rocket acting as spokesman cleared his throat loudly and stammered back into speech. "Uh . . . well! Um, anyway, here you are. Come on down, both of you, and we'll discuss business in a more suitable location."

...

In about five minutes, Hibiki found himself sitting beside Kenta at one of the biggest round tables he'd ever seen in his life. The diameter must have been about forty or fifty feet, and at every seat, a member of various pokémon-using rogue organizations gazed on at the Nyna brothers intensely. Trying to distract himself from his unsteady nerves, Hibiki silently named off the teams as he looked from uniform to uniform, noticing that every advocate was present except for Team Aqua. However, the members of Team Rocket, Magma, Galactic, Innuendo, Snagem, and Cipher took up every chair and all possible floor space of the large underground meeting room. There wouldn't have been room for anyone else anyway. The Spokesman Rocket who had first greeted Kenta stood up from his chair at the far opposite end of the table, and any chattering in the room was silenced abruptly. He waved his hands in an upward motion, and six people in different uniforms rose to their feet and stood with him.

"A reminder, gentlemen," declared the Spokesman Rocket, "that we are together in temporary unity. Leaders, repeat your stances for the late arrivals."

Kenta twitched angrily beside Hibiki, and he saw what was wrong; Basho had straightened up. "Neo Team Rocket Administrator 006, Basho."

"Representing Team Magma," announced the woman in a red hood decorated with fake horns, "Magma Admin, Kagari."

 _She looks like an occultist_ , thought Hibiki, slightly intimidated _. Allies or not, these people are freaking me out._

"I'm here on behalf of Team Galactic," said a second woman, dressed in a stiff skirt with tight black pants beneath. Hibiki found himself reminded of Cindy-Lou Who from the Grinch movie . . . if Cindy-Lou had died and come back from Hell. "Codename, Commander Mars."

"The Chief chose me as Innuendo's delegate," uttered a man in a ceremonial-looking robe, who had styled his long black hair to have it cover his left eye. "My title is Second Wind. Call me Sariel."

"Gonzap," grunted a giant of a man, with his bare muscles bulging at his sides. "Leader of Team Snagem."

 _He looks like Atilla the Hun_ , thought Hibiki, feeling a strange compulsion to laugh in spite of his fear, - _if Atilla had designed his moustache to resemble a spider._

"I'm Ein," spoke the last man in a labcoat, not really looking at anyone but keeping his eyes down at the floor. He seemed a lot less enthusiastic to introduce himself than any of the other representatives had been, and almost out of nowhere, Hibiki felt strangely sorry for him. "I'm ashamed to say that I was once part of Cipher. Now I'm in charge of the small remnant who, like me, broke away."

Hibiki checked around the room. He couldn't see any uniforms aside from those of the first five representatives, and wondered just how sparse this remnant must be. A moment later, his survey jerked to a halt as hundreds of eyes turned on him, causing him to cower back in trepidation. Thankfully, most of the Team members were not gazing directly at Hibiki, but at the young man to his left. Kenta gave no signs of stage fright, but clasped his hands together and returned the stare of the Spokesman Rocket. The latter smiled.

"So, now that the introductions are over . . . what have you got in store for us, Nyna?"

Kenta raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" The Spokesman Rocket gave a short bark of a laugh. "You should know better than I do!" He held up his arms enthusiastically. "Wherever you go, things happen. We know you've been rallying trainers to fight the law, and urging them to cooperate with us. For god sakes, the news is spreading like wildfire to those of us underground! So here we are, working together, just like you said we should.

"We risked sending Yosuke and a couple other boys out this morning, just so you might hear about us on the news and drop by the area." The spokesman grinned mischievously. "You took longer to arrive than expected. But of course, it's understandable why. That little robbery in Orre would delay you, wouldn't it?"

A great uproar of laughter resounded through the chamber. Kenta waited until it had died down, then got to his feet, stone-faced. "I'm not as used to stealing as you probably are," he said firmly, "so it's crucial that I make up for this weakness, 'if the tide is to turn.'" He was greeted with a few confused faces, and continued on steadily. "One day in the near future, there is going to be a decisive mass pokémon battle, in which agent forces of the government will mow down our resistance. I'm not oblivious to my enemy. Any hastily-trained pokémon that we rebels capture now will serve no purpose, except to buy time and wear down their super pokémon."

This wasn't Hibiki's first time hearing these words, yet it disheartened him all the same. After all of his recruitment visits and "can-do" encouragement to the masses, in the end, Kenta didn't have faith in his own troops to finish off their oppressors. What he was about to announce wasn't the back-up plan; it had been the battle strategy all along.

"Our only chance of winning is to do what we should have done before G.R.I.P.'s little privacy invasion: fight them with OUR pokémon. On the day of battle, I intend to snatch trainer-owned uber pokémon right back out from their grubby hands, and use those against them." Kenta's eyes sharpened. "But to do that, I must have the Snag Machine. Krane Laboratories used to have a real one, but since then, they've replaced it with a fake. I have no idea where they hid the true invention, and I'm running out of time to find it."

Someone cleared his throat. Everyone's attention in the room shifted to the giant musclebound man called Gonzap, whom Hibiki had likened to Atilla the Hun. He had a distant look in his eyes, but smiled as though he was recalling a fond memory. "You know, kid," he said, "in any dilemma, there's always a backdoor route that leads to the solution. Do you think those suits are the only ones with a Snag Machine?"

Kenta glanced at him intently, eyes alert. "You mean you've been keeping a spare stashed away? You know how to make them?"

"Well, you're half-right." Gonzap crossed his arms, in his own little world. "You see, Team Snagem used to be a legitimately feared organization back in the Orre Region, but that was largely because of one talented rogue we used to have, who later quit. No, 'quit' isn't the word. He flat-out betrayed us, even blowing up our base as he fled. His name was Wes."

Hibiki stared at Gonzap in wonder. He was expecting outrage in the big man's voice, yet Gonzap almost seemed to be basking in the memory of his treacherous former teammate.

"I suppose it's mostly my fault for what happened," he sighed, "and it just took me a while to accept it. Our team had gotten a proposition from two elderly gentlemen named Evice and Greevil Cipher- brothers born into great fortune. They were going to offer us more money than we'd ever seen in any of our desert-wandering lives, in exchange for the blueprints to our infamous Snag Machine. I was all for it. When you've lived in an arid wasteland your whole life, and Survival comes knocking at your door, you don't turn him down. It was always about the money.

"Wes differed on the matter, and he told me so quite readily. Said he didn't trust the Cipher brothers one iota, and I shouldn't, either. I was too short-sighted at the time to realize that they would later try to conquer the region with their 'Shadow Pokémon Plan,' and if possible, the rest of the world- twice. We got into a shouting match over it, and Wes just stormed off, threatening to take matters into his own hands. I didn't think he'd really do it.

"As the team Snagger, Wes held the most responsibility for our Snag Machine. I guess he felt convicted about Cipher conquering the earth using his baby, on his watch. He could've just taken it and left, but instead, he blew a large hole in our wall and drew attention to himself. I don't know when or how he planted all the explosives around our base, but he obviously wanted the blueprints destroyed. As soon as we were all out of the base and chasing him, he sent the whole thing up in flames."

Gonzap shrugged, staring at his own feet. "Good kid. A little rough around the edges, but he knew what was going on when the rest of us failed to see it. And he made sure we all got out alive. Fool that I was, I ended up siding out team with Cipher anyway. We didn't accept that they were evil until long into their second attempt at world domination."

 _He must've been waiting a long time to get that off his chest_ , Hibiki observed, as a pregnant silence lapsed in the room. _Looks like there's more complexity to the stereotypical bad guys than the media has given them credit for._

"So," Kenta finally said, somewhat awkwardly, "that's interesting and all, but you say that Wes left with your Snag Machine? Where is it now?"

Gonzap smiled and shrugged. "I can't tell you that for sure. I can't even be certain of where Wes is." He clasped his hands together, looking serious. "But I can tell you about his favorite haunt. He likes to hang out in an old diner on the outskirts of the Orre Region. It looks like a disfigured steam locomotive. You can't mistake it when you find it." He grinned. "I met him there a couple of times. He still has gray-dyed hair, reflector shades, and that stupid blue duster cloak of his. But no Snag Machine on his arm. Not anymore."


	32. Chapter 32

There would be no going back to Violet City for Kenta and Hibiki that night. Now that they were on Japan's "Most Wanted" criminal list, everyone above ground level was on high alert for the legendary thief with the Zapdos. After sending Mismagius to inform Marina that they were safe, the Nyna brothers retired to a small room that had once served as a shinobi Black Ops meeting area. With no windows, and only cramped living space, the place was somewhat claustrophobic. However, Kenta wasn't complaining, nor would Hibiki. They had a door between themselves and the criminal organizations outside, and even though it had no lock, it provided some consolation.

Kenta hummed as he spread out his sleeping bag, showing cheer for the first time since the two had entered the Rocket hideout. Hibiki caught his eye, pleased to see that his spirits were up, and Kenta smiled in return. "We're back on track, bro," he said jubilantly, fluffing his pillow. "I didn't think it would happen so fast. We've got our next lead, and Bolt is feeling better already. Best of all, this new task is nice and safe. If all goes well, we'll be eating lunch with Wes by tomorrow."

"D'you think he'll give the Snag Machine to you?" Hibiki asked, settling into his own bag. "I mean, have you thought about what you'll say to him?"

Kenta turned off the light, but not before Hibiki caught a last look at his face. His smile was still there, but it had faded. "You heard what Gonzap said," he replied, his voice neutral. "Wes doesn't let himself be seen with the Snag Machine. He may not even have it anymore. But . . ." The smile returned in his voice. "If there's anyone who understands how it works, it's him. We've already got his sympathies. All we have to do is convince him that our government has become the new Cipher."

Hibiki yawned, suddenly tired. "You make this sound so easy."

Kenta issued a short laugh. "When you rough it for long enough, you get desensitized to what 'hard' is." He heaved a long sigh. "But we do still have one more Herculean Labor to go once this is done, and it'll be like trying to catch smoke. We'll need to hire a professional for this one. I just hope Marina never deletes her phone contacts."

...

The morning sun had just barely crept into the sky when Marina came out through the double-doors of Mahogany Town Pokémon Center. Standing under a lamppost, waiting for her, were two young men in brown traveling cloaks. The taller one nodded a silent greeting to her. Marina stared, then put a hand on her hip, bemused.

"What's with the getup?" she said in an ironical tone. "Do you guys think you're cool now, or something?"

"Nah."

In a dual sweep of hands, both Kenta and Hibiki pushed a pair of dark glasses over their eyes, and grinned identically. " _Now_ we're cool," stated Kenta matter-of-factly. Next to him, Hibiki shrugged. "In all honesty, Marina, we need to look bizarre for where we're going. The Team Snagem remnant and the Cipher dropouts warned us that there were a lot of weirdos in the Orre desert. The best way to avoid trouble is by fitting in."

Marina looked at them uncertainly. "Okay, then," she said, brightening up a little. "So, where's my cloak?"

Hibiki coughed automatically, uncomfortably, and glanced at his brother. Kenta removed his glasses and looked Marina in the eye. "I need you to do something for me, before I leave you," he said in his most serious voice. Marina looked at him, her face reddening a little, and glanced away. "Wh-what would that be, Kenta?" she asked timidly. Kenta pointed over her shoulder, at the mountains to the east, and his voice became deep and soft. "Promise me you'll do your best to make it happen," he crooned. "Only you can do this for me, Marina."

"Of course," she said, looking very taken aback, completely red-faced. "Anything for you, Kenta. What do you need me to do?"

Kenta winked and gave her a thumbs-up, and his voice returned to normal. "Thanks, Marina! I need you to find me that guy we ran into, back during the Raikou incident. What's-his-name . . . Eusine."

"Uhm . . . oh." Marina relaxed, looking disappointed. "You're referring to that guy in the half-cape? Strand of hair constantly in his face? The one who drives like a twelve-year-old?"

"Bad manners? Unhealthy obsession with Suicune? Yeah, that guy." Kenta tossed his Friend Ball, and a moment later, Bolt's enormous Salamence body was standing between them. He hopped on, pulling Hibiki along with him. "Find him however you can. Tell him that his goal is within reach. We need to get going- thanks again!"

Then they were in the air, and shooting for the clouds before Hibiki could even fully catch up on what had just happened. However, as he pieced it together, he shifted his weight and kicked his brother in the back of his leg. "Not cool, Kenta," he said, as the other turned around to give him a _what-the-hell-dude_ look. "You shouldn't toy with a girl's emotions like that. You seriously sounded like you were about to propose to her just then, in case things didn't work out."

Kenta turned away, with an odd smile on his face. "You obviously don't know Marina," he said, "even after all those times you talked with her on the phone. If I hadn't put her on the defensive back there, she would've gotten really indignant over the fact that we weren't taking her." He shook his head, still smiling. "Marina may act happy-go-lucky, but she's actually quite a competitive battler. In fact, I almost regret not bringing her."

"Really?" asked Hibiki, feeling confused. "So what's the issue, here?"

"It's the same dilemma that Osama Bin Laden faced," mused Kenta. "We can travel in numbers for safety. But we travel in limit for stealth. If we get caught, I can only hope that we wouldn't need Marina's extra strength to get us through.

"Let's just pray that Wes is with us, if things get bad."

...

Hibiki expected, as any logical person might, that the Orre region would be on top alert after yesterday's incident in Krane Laboratories. While he was certain that this wasn't the first time somebody had tried to steal the Snag Machine, or for that matter, anything else in Krane Laboratories, he doubted that any other thieves had overpowered the security staff with a legendary pokémon. People talked about the legendaries all the time, but it was another experience altogether to see one in person.

Kenta's watch read about 11:30 by the time Bolt landed behind a rock by Outskirt Stand that marked the boundary of the Orre Region. As Kenta was recalling his Salamence, Hibiki peeked around the corner of the boulder. As Gonzap had told them, the diner somewhat resembled a steam locomotive, with a lone gas pump sitting directly in front of it. Scattered around the place, half-buried in mounds of desert sand, sat rusted metal relics resembling school lockers and grinding gears.

 _How sad,_ thought Hibiki as he and Kenta pulled their hoods over their heads. _This place is a dump. And . . . do I hear music?_

Over the moan of the wind and the hiss of scattering sand, he detected faint melodies of a harmonica issuing from the stand. As he and Kenta approached the Stand, the music became clearer, and he noticed it was coming from a young man sitting on a ramp that led to the diner's entrance. The musician was dressed in cowboy leather pants, and while he seemed to have dyed his hair red, it had faded into a more pinkish color. When the brothers reached the gas pump he stopped and glanced up.

"Well, howdy strangers. When did you get here?" His tone carried a hint of suspicion, but Hibiki was relieved to hear an overall friendly manner in his speech. Kenta smiled politely. "We flew in by pokémon. We were just getting something to eat."

"Pokémon, huh? Hoo-ee!" whooped the musician, hoisting himself to his feet and slapping his knee jubilantly. "I say, not a whole lot of people around here can do that. We'd have to at least've caught a rare Trapinch and trained it up to a Flygon!" He thrust out his hand, smiling. "My name's Willie. Are you folks from out of town?"

"You could say that," said Kenta, returning the grin as he shook Willie's hand. "To be honest, we're here to visit someone."

"Is it for a pokémon battle?" asked Willie excitedly, shoving his harmonica into his pants where Hibiki suspected the gun would be kept. "I know a good trainer when I see one. I can tell by their eyes. Whether you're from here or out of town, you must've been traveling on one big animal to carry the both of you!"

He was now jerking Hibiki's hand up and down. Hibiki smiled nervously, hoping he didn't look suspicious. On first impression, Willie seemed like a simpleton, but his trainer's intuition was worrisome. He was relieved when Kenta pulled a folded-up piece of paper from his cloak that Gonzap had given him before their departure, which drew Willie's attention. It was a picture of Wes when he was sixteen, back when he still served Team Snagem. Willie's eyes widened as he viewed the picture, and Kenta's narrowed in understanding.

"I take it you've seen this man before?"

"Sure have," said Willie, looking at Kenta in astonishment. "Everyone's heard about him! It's been six years since he thwarted Evice Cipher's first attempt to take over our land with his pokémon minions."

"No, I mean . . ." Kenta turned around and waved his hand at the endless stretch of desert surrounding them. "Have you actually seen him in person? Does he come out from wherever he lives to visit this place?"

Willie's face was blank for a moment, and then a beaming smile lit up his features. "You _do_ mean to battle him!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hands together eagerly. "Boy, you must really be something else to track him this far. Ol' Wes comes here to avoid the mobs of people who want his autograph!" Willie lowered his voice. "Or his head on a stake. You know. Since he got all those Cipher creeps arrested."

"Does Wes show up often?" asked Hibiki, a nagging idea occurring to him. _What if we've already missed him?_

"More and more frequently," answered Willie, leaning lazily against the railing on the ramp. "The food here isn't anything spectacular, but his girlfriend is the waitress. She's had to keep her head low too, you know. They were both together in defeating Cipher."

"Is that so?" muttered Kenta, mostly to himself, his hand on his chin. After a moment of silence, he perked up. "Well! Thank you for your help, Willie. I hope you get to see that awesome pokémon battle you crave, despite G.R.I.P.'s decrees."

"Righty-ho!" called Willie cheerfully after them, as Hibiki followed Kenta into the diner. "And I'll be glad to take you anytime!"


	33. Chapter 33

Once they were inside, the brothers took a seat at the booth furthest from the door, and Hibiki took his first look around. The place was a bit tight, but cozy enough, with a couple other dining tables, and a single counter near the door where a burly-looking waiter stood wiping a beer mug with a rag. A single gasoline-powered generator sat against the wall, chugging like a train engine and providing electricity for the overhead lamps. A television hung just above the waiting counter, and the screen featured a newswoman with the subtitle "OBNS" just underneath.

 _I hope they're not still talking about us_ , thought Hibiki, feeling a bit paranoid. _Nobody seems to have given us a second glance, but what if they show our faces on the screen?_

His view of the television was blocked a moment later by woman in black clothes, whom he didn't acknowledge for a few seconds until he realized she was standing at his table. Was she their waitress? But she was dressed so nicely . . .

"Hello boys," she said in a dull and faraway voice, looking as if she wasn't paying attention to them at all. "What can I get you?"

Kenta looked down at their table, then back at the woman. "I'm not sure, uh . . . Yuki?" he said. Hearing her name, the waitress snapped back to reality, and Hibiki looked at her name tag where Kenta had been looking. ("Hi! My name is YUKI.")

"We don't have any menus," explained Kenta kindly. "If you have any, could we please check them out?"

"Oh, yes. Certainly. Sorry," apologized Yuki in a soft-spoken voice. She turned around, eyes to the floor. "I'll be right back."

Kenta watched her as she went, pity showing in his eyes. "Something's not right with her," he said quietly to Hibiki. "She seems upset. I wonder if something bad happened to Wes."

 _Nothing ever goes as planned_ , thought Hibiki, glancing back to see if he could spot Yuki again. _But this just goes to show that there are other things happening in peoples' lives outside of our own._ He felt his own pang of pity, as Yuki came back and delivered two menus to their table without looking at either of them in the eye. _Poor girl. I'm sure she's not always this disoriented. What could have happened?_

He ordered something cheap, immediately forgetting what it was. Kenta simply muttered "I'll have what he's having," and with that, Yuki nodded and was gone again. But before their order was back, a rumble in the distance caught the brothers' attention. Hibiki looked out the window to see a rapidly-approaching dust cloud, and moments later, a motorbike with a bizarre-looking floating engine had pulled up to the stop. A youth in his early twenties climbed off, and Kenta issued a sharp intake of breath at the sight of him. Gray-dyed hair. Reflector glasses. Perfect resemblance to the Snagger in Gonzap's photograph. This had to be Wes. The only difference other than age was clothing; the rider was also wearing black from head to toe.

"Alright, this is it," said Kenta softly, looking at Hibiki as the latter's heart rate increased and his body tensed. "Let's play it cool, and look for a good opportunity to get his attention."

They watched Wes through the window until he had paced up the ramp and out of sight. He came through the doorway just as Yuki was returning from the back kitchen, and she gasped slightly and put aside her tray. Kenta and Hibiki peeked around the corner of their booth, but Yuki's back was turned to them. Hibiki could make out Wes's tired adult face, and as he watched, the man pulled a cigarette out of his pocket and lit up.

"You decided to work today after all?" he said softly, and Yuki's head nodded in confirmation. "You shouldn't have."

"It keeps my mind off things," said Yuki in a sad voice. Hibiki shook his head slightly.

 _No, it doesn't. It's plain as day that you're upset._

"I thought you said you were quitting," she continued, looking at the cigarette. Wes bobbed his head, then turned back to the door without looking at her. "I know, I'm sorry. But I need one now. It helps calm me down." He opened the door, and cast a glance back at Yuki. "I'll wait for you. Come out when you're ready."

Yuki remained where she stood for a couple of seconds after Wes was gone, then turned to the counter to say something to her supervisor. Hibiki detected movement behind him, and looked up to see Kenta walking past. He glanced at the table, and saw that his brother had left some money at the center, even though they hadn't eaten anything. Confused, he followed Kenta briskly out the door, and past Wes's motorcycle in the opposite direction. Wes didn't seem to see them, but stared blankly at his dashboard. Catching up so that he was walking right next to Kenta, Hibiki looked him in the eye.

"Wait . . . what's going on? What are we doing now?"

"Hiding," Kenta muttered back to him, heading for the rock where they had started. "It's clear that Wes doesn't want to talk right now. He has somewhere to be."

"So we're just letting him go?" Hibiki asked, dumbfounded, as they ducked behind their boulder. "What did we fly all morning for?"

"Don't be silly," said Kenta, watching beside Hibiki as Yuki came out of the Outskirt Stand, still in her black clothing. "If we had gone out just after her, it might have looked suspicious to someone. But if we waited, the sand might have covered that motorbike's tracks. That, or the bike would outspeed Bolt. It looks darn fast."

"So we're going to tail them?" asked Hibiki, as the sound of Wes's bike roared to life in the background. In a flash of light, Bolt was beside him. Kenta helped Hibiki onto the Salamence's back. "We'll follow them at a distance," he said, "but let's keep an eye on our shadow. If Wes detects something this big chasing him, he'll assume we're enemies. I'd rather keep things simple."

...

Moving westward gave Hibiki a chance to see the land transform beneath him. What had started as a desert steadily became more green as time passed. Oasis became more and more commonplace, and trees became larger as water continued to frequent the area. By the time they had arrived in a place called "Agate Village," the trees were so large that Hibiki was astonished to see doors and windows in them. He would never have suspected that people could live inside of trees. Kenta had told him of a place in Hoenn called Fortree City, but the citizens there resided in treehouses.

 _This is dangerous, really_ , Hibiki thought. _Here, the houses are the trees themselves . . . but wouldn't hollowing them out increase the rate of rotting? Knock on wood._

Wes parked his motorbike near a bridge leading into the village, and helped Yuki out of the passenger cab on the side. Further back, Kenta, Hibiki, and Bolt dropped into a thicket. One minute after Wes and Yuki had crossed the bridge, the two brothers snuck out of their hiding place and headed in the same direction. Lowering their hoods, they approached the tree where Yuki and Wes had entered, which Hibiki noticed was the tallest tree at the highest point in the village. A scattering of elderly people were also making their way towards the tree, all of whom were wearing the same black clothing that Yuki and Wes had worn.

Kenta stopped and looked briefly at Hibiki, then motioned for him to change direction. A Pokémon Mart happened to be only a short hill climb away, and as they headed for this building instead, Hibiki noticed older folks coming out from there, too. As they entered through the door, the faint smell of incense greeted their nostrils. Two old women were in line at the register, and Kenta casually slid in behind them. Hibiki followed suit, once again wishing Kenta would communicate with him more, but now understanding what was going on. Kenta confirmed it for him.

"There's a funeral for someone today," he muttered in undertone, "and I think I know who it's for. Check out that picture frame."

On the counter, there was indeed a picture of a smiling old man with flowing white hair and wrinkly blue robes. He reminded Hibiki of a sorcerer, minus the hat, and even the name above the picture sounded wizardly. "Rest in peace, Mithos Eagun," it read.

"The face isn't familiar, but I recognize that name," whispered Kenta so that only Hibiki could hear. "Eagun was once known as the 'myth trainer,' because it was rumored that every time he battled, there would be a lightning storm overhead. He had an affinity with electric-type pokémon, you see. Back when pokémon battling was just becoming a sport, he had a rousing battle with Wataru Lance's grandfather, Wataru Rod. They inspired many people to become pokémon trainers on that day."

 _Wow, so this guy was really something_ , thought Hibiki. _It's too bad he lived in such an out-of-the-way place like this. He might have had more people come to his funeral._

"I'm going to buy some incense for Eagun," said Kenta, still in his quiet voice. Hibiki detected genuine emotion behind it. "I didn't think I'd be paying respects today, but I'm going to make an exception, and then some." Kenta turned to look Hibiki in the face, his expression unusually soft. "You'll see what I mean later. Then we'll get back to doing what we came to do."


	34. Chapter 34

When Kenta knocked on the door to the Eagun residence, a frail-looking old woman with reddened eyes and a tear-stained face answered the door. "Yes?" she said in a shaky voice, looking at the brothers in confusion, "can I help you boys with something?"

Kenta bowed to her with both hands pressed together, in a sign of respect. "I know you haven't seen us before," he said slowly, "but we heard the Myth Trainer was here. We were hoping we might see him one last time."

"Oh- of course." The old woman stepped aside, showing them into her home. "We figured the funeral would be mostly private," she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue, "but bless your hearts for coming. You must have had to travel a long distance to get here."

Kenta smiled gently at her, pulling out his incense, and Hibiki followed him to where the incense holders, and a group of mourners, were gathered. "That was Beluh Eagun," he explained, lighting up his stick and placing it. "She was Mithos's wife. They must have been together for more than eighty years."

He sighed audibly, shoved his hands in his pockets, and chewed on his lip. The crowd had parted enough for Hibiki to see the open casket where Eagun lay, looking so peaceful that he might have been sleeping. There was, however, a subtle difference. Hibiki could not put his finger on it, but glancing from the old man's body to a nearby picture frame of him smiling, he detected a distinct disparity from the living and the dead. The body, as real as it was, did not appear to him as a person. It was only a vessel.

"This could have been me," Kenta said beside him, and Hibiki looked back at his brother, who still had the lifespark in his eyes. Kenta's face was tight, and he seemed to be almost despairing. "I told you that I almost died in the mountains of Northeastern Kanto, from bleeding so long out of that bullet wound," he said. The muscle in his jaw pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. "Here we are, right in the heat of the moment, living our lives to do some . . . some _thing_ that will make it meaningful. But at any time, at any minute, we could just die, and that would be the end. It doesn't have to be from old age either, you know?"

"Kenta . . ." whispered Hibiki, but that was all he could say. Kenta was rocking on his heels, not taking his eyes off of Eagun's body, in his own little trance.

"This feeling . . . it always goes away eventually, but it comes back, too. Every time this cold, hard wake-up slap of death interferes with life, I always think: what's the point?"

Somebody pushed in next to Hibiki, but he didn't take heed. All of his attention was on Kenta, and his fear that, once again, he was breaking down in mid-mission. Yet Kenta was always so focused on the task at hand, that he never seemed to take time out to unload his personal thoughts for more than a minute. Perhaps it was healthy that he was getting it out now.

"Death is going to claim all of us," Kenta observed, eyes still on Eagun. "It didn't get me before, but it will simply get me later. Same goes for the people who conceived G.R.I.P., and all the folks who will enforce it afterward. So is scurrying back and forth, here and there, really serving any purpose at all?

"Look at Eagun. Look at that long beard, those sagely wrinkles, that whitened hair. He had a long time on this stage, to figure out what he was meant to do. All of our feelings, our clear knowledge of right from wrong, and our renewed strength to overcome everyday struggles, surely these testify that somebody up there is still interested in us. How much time did he need to figure this out? We honor him now, so does that mean he was able to honor his maker when he was alive?

"Is that what life is really about . . . ? Honoring your maker?"

 _Interesting how it always comes back to God_ , thought Hibiki, placing an arm around Kenta's shoulder as his brother fought to maintain his composure, a fist on his lips. _Seeing death always seems to leave one yearning anew to give his life meaning._

Kenta took a few more seconds to rise out of his pool of deep thought, before he finally lowered his shoulders and relaxed his muscles. However, before Hibiki could say something to comfort him, somebody else, said "excuse me." Turning around, Hibiki almost swallowed his tongue in shock. Standing directly beside him, still in his dusty black mourning clothes, was Wes himself. Yuki stood behind him, her eyes trained warily on Kenta. Wes put out his hand and motioned to Kenta, indicating towards the door, face expressionless. "I'm going out for a smoke. Care to join me?"

...

Once they were outside, Kenta and Wes were more or less alone. Hibiki sat himself upon a tree root protruding out of the ground, a short distance away, so that Wes would get the direct impression that Kenta would be doing the talking for them. The former Snagem member didn't look at them at first, but leaned on the fence near a close-by ledge and gazed out at the horizon. Pulling a pack of D-Stix out of his pocket, he lit up and offered Kenta one. Kenta waved his hand dismissively, and Wes nodded, pocketing the rest.

"Good on you. Don't ever start smoking, man," he said in a monotonous voice, even as the wisps of nicotine puffed out of his mouth. "Awful friggin' habit. I'll be with old Eagun sooner than later if I don't get my act together." He shot a glance at Kenta. "I think about death a lot, these days." He took a deep drag on his cigarette, and blew out the smoke, looking frustrated. "I really thought I'd carried out my purpose for living. But now the whole ruling force of Japan has become one great big Cipher. So what was the point in what I did?"

Kenta remained quiet. Wes stood leaning on his fence and staring at the expanse of land beyond the village for a few more seconds.

"So, why are you here?" he finally asked. "Did you come for inspiration? Because inspiration is lying in a coffin inside.

"No, you couldn't have. You didn't know where you were going." Wes turned again to look at Kenta, but this time, he kept his eyes on him. They were alert, focused. "You were on the wrong side of the Orre region, yet you asked nobody for directions."

"What makes you say-?" Kenta began, but Wes held up a hand to cut him off. "Yuki recognized you from the diner, even with your hoods on," he said calmly. "But besides that, I know Willie. He phoned me during the ride over, sending a warning that you were chasing us. I figured that I wouldn't try to lose you, because you would soon see that we had nothing to hide anyway."

 _He was completely prepared_ , thought Hibiki, his veins pulsing as he took in Wes's words. _This guy really does live up to his reputation. Are we ready for him?_

"So, why didn't you shed your cloaks?" Wes asked calmly, observing Kenta's stone face. "If not for Willie, you might have at least avoided Yuki's suspicions. Is it because you're even more fearful of revealing who you really are?"

Hibiki gulped. Kenta stared calmly. Wes's eyes were blazing. "Are you the revolutionary from Johto, the imposter Champion Birch?"

"H-how . . .?" Hibiki stammered, unable to keep quiet any longer. "How did you know that?"

"Informed guess," replied Wes nonchalantly. "He let slip an unflattering comment against G.R.I.P., on top of everything else, so I thought I'd ask. Looks like I was right." He tossed the remainder of his cigarette on the ground and treaded it with the heel of his shoe. "So that brings us back to my other question: why are you here?"

"Oh, I think you know the answer to that. He wants your Snag Machine."

Three pairs of eyes shifted to the origin of the new voice, and Hibiki stared at him, thunderstruck. The newcomer, also dressed in black mourning clothes, was none other than the redheaded fifteen-year-old boy that they had met yesterday. Wes glared at him, and he returned the expression mutually, and the air between them was thick with tension.

"Maikeru."

"Wes."

"You're not welcome here."

"The hell I'm not. I knew Eagun just as well as you did. He helped me topple Cipher the second time, while you sat on your ass and did nothing."

Wes's eyes flashed. "I resent that. Get out of here- this is sacred ground."

Maikeru uttered a short, humorless laugh. "Oh, I have to leave, but you're letting this thief stay?" He tilted his head towards Kenta. "Stop acting like you don't know who he is. You know damn well that this is the criminal from the news, who broke into my laboratory yesterday. He's even got his little accomplice with him."

"Is he a thief? I disagree," said Wes loudly, advancing on Maikeru. "A thief steals things. I heard a lot of crap on the radio about him, but not one report of anything missing from Krane Laboratories. Now you, on the other hand . . ." He was face-to-face with Maikeru. Despite the ten-year age difference, their heights were identical. "I don't care if you are the prodigy savior of Orre. I may not have done it legally like you, but at least I stopped stealing pokémon after Cipher was detained." He shook his head, looking into Maikeru's unyielding eyes. "But . . . look at you. You've continued up until this moment."

 _This is unbelievable_ , thought Hibiki, watching the showdown taking place right before his eyes. _Because they both showed up for the same funeral, the two saviors of the Orre region are duking it out_. His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. _But what does he mean, Maikeru is continuing to steal 'up until this moment'?_

"What are you going to do, hit me?" asked Maikeru, holding his ground. "Don't make me file additional charges against you, Wes. You're already wanted for holding onto that lawless contraption of yours. The police are on their way right now, for both you and these thieves. You don't know how long I've waited for this opportunity."

Wes froze, and stood glowering over Maikeru, looking so angry that he could strangle him. Kenta cleared his throat noisily, and when the others looked at him, he motioned for Hibiki to come to his side. "Look," he said, starting to walk past them, "in spite of our grudges, I am not going to let an old man's funeral be dishonored by staying here and getting arrested in front of everyone. I'll meet you outside of town."

"So you're not going to just run away again?" Maikeru challenged him. Kenta didn't turn around. "Hardly. We've already established that my pokémon can kick the crap out of yours. I'm interested to see if Wes can do the same."

If Hibiki had known it was coming, he might have seen the private exchange of nods between Kenta and Wes.


	35. Chapter 35

"I should have stayed undercover," muttered Wes, as they reached the other side of the bridge outside of Agate Village. "I can't even show up for a goddamn funeral without getting an arrest warrant shoved in my face."

"I'm surprised you're not making a break for it on that motorcycle of yours," commented Maikeru, widening two pokeballs. "Not that there's any point in running, but what makes you want to stay to the bitter end?"

"I brought my girl here," replied Wes simply, tossing his own two pokeballs. "I can't rightly leave her without a ride back, can I?"

In a combined burst of light, four pokeballs opened to reveal an Espeon and an Umbreon on Wes's side, and on Maikeru's side, Glaceon and-

Hibiki's heart gave a leap. Kenta made a grunt of exclamation. Standing there on four steel legs, with the signature cross between its eyes, stood the living tank pokémon: Metagross. However, this was not the biggest shock. As Hibiki stared at the mighty creature, somebody's words resounded in his ears.

" _Of course I'd recognize him! He has a vertical scar down his left eye. It's his proudest battle wound!"_

This Metagross was covered in scrapes and scars, but the line down its left eye was undeniable. Steven Stone's greatest achievement lumbered before them. Wes hissed a curse, then snapped his eyes to Kenta. "Alright, no more games," he said urgently. "I need a reason to trust you, right now."

"Then consider this good enough," said Kenta, tossing him something, "the fact that I trusted you first."

Wes and Maikeru both stared at it. "Another Master Ball?" breathed Maikeru, gazing in disbelief. "How did you possibly . . . ? Who are you?!"

"Sidecar," mouthed Wes quickly and quietly. "Under the seat."

"Metagross, Meteor Mash!"

"Son of a- Espeon, Reflect! Umbreon, Confuse Ray!"

Hibiki, who was closest to Wes's motorcycle, ducked headfirst into the sidecar and plunged his hand under the seat. He felt something cool and smooth touch his fingers, and came up holding a gadget with the texture of a metallic baseball bat. It looked like half a mechanical arm, which might have provided armor protection from his outer shoulder to his hand. One thing was for sure: it was a lot heavier than the plastic imitation he had picked up before in Krane Laboratories. This time, it was real. He was holding the long-sought-after Snag Machine right in his hands.

 _I can't believe it. The Snag Machine was right here, and Kenta and I walked directly past it on our way in. And Wes . . . he's been pretending he didn't have it, yet it probably has never left his side since he went into hiding._

"Quickly!" barked Kenta, beckoning Hibiki to Wes's side. "Bring it here!"

Umbreon was all by himself, now. A skid mark on the ground from the battlefield to the stream, showed where Espeon had disappeared to. Metagross had punched the psychic pokémon all the way over to the water with Meteor Mash, and despite the Reflect shield that had been thrown up in advance, it didn't seem to be enough. Espeon was not coming back to Umbreon's side. Even as Hibiki made it to Wes's shoulder, he witnessed the frigid cold as Maikeru's Glaceon blasted Umbreon in the face with an unrelenting Ice Beam. Wes was breathing like a bull, teeth clenched and bared. In another flash of light, Bolt was on the field in Espeon's place, and Kenta also stood by Wes's side. He turned to his partner, as Hibiki held the Snag Machine out to offer him.

"Go for it, Wes! Capture that Metagross. We'll turn it right back on him!"

Maikeru shot Kenta a very ugly smile. "Go ahead and listen to him, Wes," he said through his teeth. "It'll mean life in prison. You'll never see the sun again."

Wes held up Kenta's Master Ball, and looked down at the Snag Machine that Hibiki was holding out to offer him. "I'm not afraid of a threat," he said, raising the ball. A moment later, he dropped it into Hibiki's hands, and Hibiki, caught by surprise, fumbled to grab it. "But I swore an oath to never steal another pokémon again. I won't break it." He glared at Maikeru. "Not even to put a self-righteous punk like you in your place."

Maikeru shrugged. "I can live with that." He pointed his finger at Wes's Umbreon. "And now, Metagross-"

In a burst of red light, Metagross shrank before him until it had disappeared into the Master Ball that had been thrown. The ball whirled backwards from the force of its energy withdrawal, right into the outstretched hand of Hibiki. Maikeru, Wes, and Kenta all turned their astonished gazes at the young trainer, who remained as he stood in catching position.

"Keep your oath," said Hibiki, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it hurt. "But we have a job to finish."

"Of course you do." Wes smiled fiercely at him. "I'm passing the torch to you."

"What is this nonsense?" demanded Maikeru, still flabbergasted as Metagross rematerialized before him, now on his opposite side. "Do the words 'life in prison' mean nothing to you? Do you think you'll get off for being a minor?"

"Don't be so quick to punish," said Hibiki, fitting the Snag Machine more snugly on his arm. "You're talking to the guy who saw Metagross's real trainer face-to-face." His heart was still pounding, but the initial nervous fear was being replaced by a more emboldening feeling: indignant anger. "I'd like to know what you were doing with this pokémon in your possession. Steven Stone still thinks he's being rehabilitated to survive in the wild. I could tell he missed his Metagross, but he let him go anyway." Hibiki's eyes slitted. "So before you even consider labeling me the thief, you'd better explain to me why you aren't in a juvenile court right now, awaiting YOUR punishment."

A whooshing noise issued from overhead. For a moment, Hibiki thought that it was just a gust of wind, but a moment later, no less than a dozen men in police uniforms were dropping down into the vicinity, each riding upon his very own Pidgeot. "Oh, you ignorant criminal," chided Maikeru with a mock sympathetic smile on his face. "Do you still not understand?"

"Sir," said one of the policemen, saluting Maikeru as Hibiki watched in shock, "are you all right? Did any of them get away?"

"No, Sherles, they intend to fight," replied the younger trainer.

Kenta appeared next to Hibiki. "I thought it was odd that a kid his age was permitted pokémon, ever since the lab incident!" he whispered forcefully. "There's only one explanation for this. He's got to have direct ties with G.R.I.P.!"

In an instant, twelve pokeballs flew in their direction, and in twelve bursts of white light, twelve enormous Arcanine crouched before them in battle stances. "Formation Quad Cerberus!" shouted the Officer Jenny of the battalion. "Prepare to engage! Rogue trainers, withdraw your pokémon immediately!"

For a second, Hibiki, Kenta, and Wes just looked at each other. Then Wes held out his arm and recalled Umbreon back into its pokeball. "I can't do it," he said bitterly, turning away from the Nyna brothers. "I'm tired. I was only supposed to go to a funeral today. And I don't know if Espeon is okay. I need to go check on him. I'm sorry . . . you're on your own now."

"Don't beat yourself up," said Kenta calmly, looking skyward at the gathering clouds. "I think the spirit of Mithos Eagun is with us. It looks like rain." Even as he said it, the wind picked up, and Hibiki felt the first drop on his nose. Kenta looked past the massive forms of Metagross and Bolt, past the brigade of Arcanine police dogs, and straight at the blue-dressed men and women who were ready to order them. Over the sound of the wind, he raised his voice, letting it boom so loudly that even Hibiki was amazed at his frequency level.

"Ladies and gentlemen wearing police uniforms, who have been willingly or unwillingly lied to! You have placed your trust in the hands of a pot who has declared the kettle black. In doing so, you have also dishonored a noble man's funeral." Lightning flashed overhead, and Hibiki could see the growing anger outlined in Kenta's face. "I have no intention of stealing any of your pokémon," he announced, "but this is your first and last warning to leave us in peace. If you don't, we will force you out."

Right on cue, thunder rolled at the end of his words. The officers on the other side of the field glanced at each other, some looking hesitant, then Maikeru's words cut into the midst of their doubt sharply. "Oh, for crying out loud- don't let him jerk your around like that! It's his Zapdos that's causing the weather to turn like this. This is nothing but special effects!"

"Yeah, but this rain . . ." remarked another officer, holding out her hand as the droplets fell in increasing succession. "It'll interfere with the effectiveness of our attacks . . ."

"So power up! Quad Cerberus, get that Flash Fire working!"

The twelve Arcanine obediently turned on each other and blasted one another with breaths of flame, powering up their fellows. From beside Hibiki, Kenta gave a hiss of frustration through his teeth. "Tsk . . . they mean business." He glanced urgently at Hibiki. "You captured Metagross. Until we can get him back to Steven, he's under your command, now. Don't let this opportunity go to waste!"

"Right!" said Hibiki, bracing himself as the excitement of battle pounded through his veins. He focused his attention on Metagross, hardly daring to believe he was actually giving it orders like a real trainer. _Okay, let's see . . . they're Fire-types, so they'll be strong against Steel. Steven must have been aware of this weakness, so what might he have stored up as a counter-measure? Wait- I've got it!_

"Let's see what you can do!" barked Hibiki in his most authoritative voice. "Hit them all at once. Earthquake!"

Metagross's response was immediate and devastating. With both front arms, the living tank pokémon pummeled the earth with the force of a runaway train. The resulting shockwave threw every standing person off their feet, and beat them mercilessly on the ground against rocks and sharp clay. To the left, trees lifted straight off the ground so that their roots were exposed, and on the right, the bridge leading into Agate Village bent to an almost thirty degree angle. Hibiki tripped painfully and dizzily to his feet, and stared at the row of Arcanine now lying in heaps before him. They were all down.

Wait. No, they weren't. As the humans regained their footing, and the Flying-type pokémon touched back down, the Quad Cerberus unit stumbled back onto all fours, each dog with its tongue lolled out, breathing heavily. Somebody on the police side shouted "Flame Morter!", and suddenly, Hibiki's whole world lit up. In a blast of blinding orange, and a radically intense wave of heat, the twelve Arcanine focused their fire breaths into one enormous flamethrower which enveloped Metagross until he could no longer be seen. When the police dogs finally let up, Metagross lay motionless on the ground, glowing with a red aura from the incredible heat. Stunned to the point that he could barely feel the scalding burns on his face, Hibiki numbly held out his Master Ball and withdrew the beaten Metagross. He held up Snorlax's ball automatically, but somebody's arm thrusted out to stop him. It was Kenta- and he was livid.

"Twelve Flamethrowers to one pokémon? Really?" he said softly, poisonously. "Have you no regard for the line between unconsciousness and death?" His voice rose to a battle roar. "Then neither will we! Bolt!"

He didn't need to say anything else. The Salamence was in the sky for just a moment, then dive-bombed the ground for an earth-shaking impact. The force of this Earthquake tore Agate Bridge completely from the battlefield side of the ground and scattered its planks into the water, while the surrounding trees toppled like dominos, sending roots popping and mounds of dirt flying. Hibiki glanced around worriedly, but no trees came crashing his way. The police force, conversely, hurried to recall their defeated Arcanine before a large tree trunk came crackling down right where they had fallen.

"Eat it," muttered Kenta, watching the sight with his arms crossed unapologetically. Wes appeared beside him, his eyes wide with wonder, and he looked at Kenta with a new awe that bordered on fear. "Goddamn, son," he whispered. "You're a warlord."

"Did you find your Espeon?"

"Yeah, he's okay. He got punched into the stream, so the earthquakes didn't affect him much. But Jesus Murphy," Wes continued, almost dazed, "that Salamence is a living calamity! Not even Evice's Salamence could dish out that level of magnitude!"

"If you think he's something, you should see my brother's Snorlax," said Kenta with a small smile, turning to Hibiki. He raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Hint, hint."


	36. Chapter 36

A/N: S'up. Just wanted to mention again that I'm doing audio readings of Pokemon fanfics on YouTube. NightDragon0's "Dragon Riders: Kaze No Kaeru" is coming to a close after 51 segments. Up next is "Making My Way" by an old favorite, Dragoness Bahamut (man, I sure seem to like fics from "dragon" authors). If you wish, you can check it out by typing the names of the fics into YouTube.

...

On the other side of the field, the officers were in a rare state of disarray. "What do we do?" said one frantically. "These children just took down every last one of our Arcanine."

"So let's attack with our Pidgeot! They're relying on Ground-type moves to win."

"But what if he's ready for it? That boy is a tricky one. We're only allowed two pokémon, and they're our rides out of here."

"We'll call for more backup. We can't lose here; these three are top-priority criminals! Pidgeot-!- oh, hell. The little one had another pokémon. A Snorlax."

At that moment, Hibiki had thrown his Heavy Ball, and an enormous mound of black and white fur blocked all of the view from the direct front. However, to his right he could see a blue streak dashing straight for Bolt the Salamence; it was Maikeru's Glaceon. Its trainer's voice rang out furiously.

"Don't let up! It's his damn Salamence that's the biggest threat now. We'll fix that just like we did yesterday. Glaceon, Ice-"

Maikeru didn't get to complete his sentence. A flash of lightning, and a thunderclap so loud that it momentarily deafened Hbiki, drowned out every other noise in the vicinity, stunning anybody too close. When Hibiki's eyes were strong enough to see again, he stared at the burned and twitching Glaceon before him, feeling a sense of déjà vu at the sight of the ruined pokémon.

"Just like yesterday," Kenta agreed coldly, glancing up into the sky. "I told you not to disgrace Eagun's funeral. The weather may be feigned, but the spirit is real." He turned his attention to the police squadron, who still stood looking uncertain of what to do. His hand directed their attention to Snorlax.

"Did you know that these creatures can learn Selfdestruct?" he asked lightly, but with a hardened face. "It ranks up there with Regigigas's Giga Impact, in terms of devastating force- only with this move, every pokémon on the field suffers the damage." He took a couple of steps forward, so that he was right next to Bolt. "My Salamence happens to know Protect, so we'll be fine, but I can't say the same for you and your Pidgeot. So . . . are you going to get out, or are we going to force you out?"

"Now, hold on just a minute!" barked Officer Jenny, putting up her hand authoritatively. "You don't want to do that. Let's just stop and talk about this-"

Kenta turned his glance to Hibiki. Not wanting to give the police time to think, Hibiki counted backwards in a loud voice, subconsciously edging closer to Bolt as he did so. Wes was already beside Kenta, looking apprehensive and excited.

"Five. Four. Three . . . two . . ."

That did it. As lightning streaked the sky again, the police officers lost heart and retreated on the backs of their Pidgeot, leaving behind a snowstorm of feathers. In a moment, all that could be seen of them was a collection of shrinking specks in the distance. Hibiki surveyed what they had left behind: all around him were fallen trees, and just ahead of him, a blackened singe in the ground where Zapdos had fried Maikeru's Glaceon with a Thunderbolt. Beside him, Kenta took a deep breath and exhaled, then glanced at the stream that once more separated Agate Village from the mainland. He smiled guiltily at Wes.

"Er, sorry about breaking your bridge."

"Don't worry about it," said Wes in a distant voice, obviously still recovering from the tension of the battle. "Let's just get your Salamence to pull a tree over the gap. He can do that, right?"

...

With Eagun's funeral still under way, nobody was willing to go back to the Myth Trainer's house after openly resisting the law and destroying the woodlands outside of the village. Instead, Wes led Kenta and Hibiki into a tunnel underneath the village where the rain could not reach them. They went far enough in that Hibiki could see the light on the other side, and there they sat, listening for a while to the steady pitter-patter of the droplets outside. At one point, Wes tried to light another cigarette, but after a number of failed attempts, he gave up and flung the stick away.

"This place is so nostalgic, it overwhelms me," he sighed, pulling out Umbreon's pokeball and spinning it on his finger. "Just ahead of us is the Relic Stone, where I used to always come to purify the hearts of my Shadow Pokémon. That's what you'd have to do to beat Cipher's artificial aggression treatment." He shook his head. "No doubt, Maikeru had to go through the same thing, when he saved Orre from Cipher. And Eagun was there for both of us, each time." He closed his eyes. "I didn't have a right to turn him away from the funeral like I did."

The desire to ask a question flared up in Hibiki's chest. He had been meaning to do it for a while, but the previous battle had interrupted them. "Wes," he said, "You say that Maikeru rescued Orre from Cipher's second takeover. Kenta and I have fought him twice now, but . . . I really don't know; is he a good guy, or a bad guy?"

Wes gave a hollow laugh and looked at the ground. "Maikeru was probably the youngest person to ever take down a criminal syndicate . . . except maybe for Red. Along with being a child genius, he was as pure-hearted as the pokémon he saved: a true hero. But it must have planted a radical idea in his mind, after seeing so many good pokémon turned bad by men." Wes looked longingly at the cigarette he had cast on the ground, then reluctantly turned away. "Pokémon can be trained by anybody over the age of ten, or at least that's how it once was. But Maikeru thinks- and I'm sure we all agree on this- that there are many, many people who can't use pokémon responsibly."

Hibiki and Kenta both nodded. Wes nodded back. "Every single region in Japan where new pokémon are discovered, soon has a new criminal organization trying to harness their power for selfish ambition. Just look at those fools in the most recent one." Wes clasped his hands together, fidgeting with his hands. "So Maikeru decided that everyone should give their most powerful pokémon to one ruling force who could be absolutely trusted to make the best decisions. Do you need to know anything else?"

There was a silence.

 _Kenta knew he was with G.R.I.P_., thought Hibiki, watching his brother resting with his arms tucked behind his head. _But just how high up is he, that he has an actual place in the government's ranks at his young age? And how did he attain the kind of power that enabled him to own the former champion's signature pokémon? Just who are we really dealing with, here?_

"So, can we prove that they can't be trusted?" Kenta finally asked, staring at the cave ceiling. "After all, Steven's Metagross can't just tell him where it's been. He may just think we stole it from that nonexistent wilderness rehabilitation clinic."

"Well, whether you can prove it or not, it's out of my hands now," said Wes, stretching his arms. "You're the revolutionaries committing the treason. You'll figure something out." He grinned, looking oddly sinister. "Who are you guys, anyway? A few days ago you were nobodies, and now the media won't shut up about you."

Kenta extended his arm and shook Wes's hand. "Nyna Kenta. And my brother, Hibiki."

"Kenta and Hibiki . . . Eagun would have been proud of you." Wes glanced at the Snag Machine still on Hibiki's arm. "Well then, I'd better get back to the funeral. I suppose you're off to rob the rich and give to the poor. When can I expect to hear reports about you using my baby?"

"Give it a couple of days," replied Kenta, heading towards the rear entrance of the rocky tunnel. "There's another matter at hand that requires first priority. If the government hasn't already figured out how to make Master Balls, they soon will."

"And if they do . . ." Wes started, and Kenta nodded. "They'll be able to pursue any pokémon they want. Including the legendaries. Especially the legendaries."

...

A rousing cheer greeted Kenta and Hibiki when they returned to the Rocket ninja hideout under Mahogany Town, with the Snag Machine in possession. Hibiki stayed close to Kenta, looking nervously at the ecstatic criminals who had come to celebrate the success of their newest outlaw brethren. "They aren't cheering for us," said Kenta in undertone, as everyone finally took their seats at the discussion table. "They're happy because the next phase of the plan is about to be set in motion, and they're due to receive some quality toys."

Hibiki nodded, getting his gist. That very morning, before they had left to meet Marina, Kenta had stopped to talk to the "owner" of Mahogany's gift shop, who was really the gatekeeper to the underground hideout. "I'm leaving a message for all of the leaders here," Kenta informed him. "Ask them: 'if you had a Master Ball, what would you capture with it?'" After running into Marina, it was time for a brief stop at Kurt's, and after Kurt's, business in the Orre region.

Now here they were, seated amongst a variation of Rockets, Magmas, Aquas- Hibiki's heart leapt. Team Aqua was here now-? . . . And they were all looking at Kenta expectantly. Not making eye contact with anyone, Kenta reached into his cloak pocket and began rolling pool ball-sized orbs down the table to each team representative. Even after being with Kenta the longest, Hibiki marveled at how his brother had the foresight to be ready for every occasion in advance. When all eight representatives had a Master Ball in hand, Kenta intertwined his fingers and spoke in the authoritative tone he always used when dealing with people he didn't trust.

"I can't guarantee you that any of those will work," he said, looking at the Master Balls he had just given away. "Every last one of them is less than a week old, and made by an old-fashioned craftsman. But they're yours to use how you see fit." He glanced up, finally making eye contact with a few of the many pairs of eyes looking back at him. "I'm not going to lecture you like the trainer clubs I've been visiting. Most people would say I'm insane for doing what I just did. However, it would be nice to discover that you guys aren't the evil monsters that the media has portrayed you to be."

"You cocky son of a bitch."

The voice came from behind Kenta and Hibiki, and the crowd opened to reveal the one Rocket member who had spoken. The silence in the room was deafening. Hibiki stared at him, unable to believe his ears. The Rocket, however, came forward, hands balled in fists, arms stiffly at his sides. It was Yosuke, the Rocket Kenta had met back in Azalea Police Station. Kenta watched him, expression neutral, and Yosuke glared daggers at him through his Rocket mask.

"Listen to yourself. You think you're so great?" he spat. "Yesterday it was 'I'm not as used to stealing as you people probably are,' and today, it's 'you'd better prove yourselves to be good for my noble act of generosity.' Who are you to judge, huh?" He stalked up to Kenta until a couple of his teammates blocked the way and grabbed him by the arms. "Shut up, man!" one of them whispered. "He's helping us out, here. Who cares?"

"I CARE!" Yosuke roared, straining to pull free as he maintained his furious eye connection with Kenta. "We take him into our hideout when he's fleeing the police, and he turns around and wipes his feet on our faces! You guys have seen how he segregates himself from the rest of us. He does that with everyone he meets.

"Well, come down from your throne and hear this, Mr. High-and-Mighty! Some of us don't have the option of getting jobs legitimately. Some of us have to turn criminal, because we've been turned away everywhere else. We're not lesser people for it!"

Yosuke broke free. For a moment, Hibiki was sure he would lunge at Kenta, but the young Rocket just looked at him disgustedly before twisting around and marching out of the room. A few uneasy murmurings broke out, and Kenta leaned forward and put his fingers on his temples, his hair covering his eyes. After a couple more seconds of awkwardness, he rose out of his chair and headed slowly for the exit that would lead upstairs. "I don't have anything more to say," he said in a tight, croaking voice. "Please excuse me. Hibiki, tell me how it went later."

And for the first time since the police station incident, Hibiki found himself completely alone with no plan. He sat as still as he could, pretending not to be there, and a few merciful minutes later, the criminal teams around him moved into a voting activity on who should catch what. The Rockets eventually settled on Lugia, which they had once attempted to catch years ago in the Whirl Islands region of Johto. Teams Aqua and Magma, predictably enough, agreed to reapply themselves in their searches for Kyogre and Groudon. Team Snagem would hunt for Celebi, and Cipher, Ho-oh. Galactic would do their best to acquire Giratina. Innuendo had no comment. Perhaps they would go after one of the dragons in the new region.


	37. Chapter 37

When the meeting adjourned, Hibiki headed to the surface as quickly and covertly as he could. Emerging from the secret floor hatch behind one of the shelves, he peeked under the shelf legs and spotted a pair of feet standing facing the counter on the opposite side. Taking care to keep quiet, Hibiki pulled himself out of his hole and shut the trapdoor behind him. Pretending to be a customer, he picked a random item (Great Ball) off the shelf and headed to the counter. He was greeted by the nod of the shopkeeper (the undercover Rocket posing as a cashier), and a glance of recognition from a man he had never seen before.

"There he is," said the Rocket, motioning for Hibiki to put the Great Ball back on the shelf. "Hey, kid, it's cool. This guy's here for you. Don't worry about that ball, unless you really intend to buy it."

"Hello Hibiki," said the man, giving him a polite half-bow. "Kenta asked me to get you. I'm Eusine."

Hibiki stared at him. A man probably in his mid-thirties, Eusine wore a purple tuxedo and matching pants, with a white half-cape draped around his shoulders, and a red bow-tie under his chin to bring it all together. It was as if he had just come from a royal Victorian banquet. _Does he look like this all the time_? Hibiki thought, absently reaching out his hand to shake Eusine's gloved one. _All dressed up and nowhere to go._

Darkness had fallen since Hibiki had gone underground. Once they were outside and walking, Eusine began closely examining a pokeball in his hand, which Hibiki quickly identified as a Master Ball despite the dim light. Feeling timid, but also anxious about what his companion was doing, Hibiki put out his hand worriedly. "Er, Mr. Eusine, sir? Er, are you sure that's a good idea, to be holding that out in public?"

"My apologies." Eusine tucked the Master Ball under his cape in one silk motion. "It's just that I've never seen one of these before, not since Professor Elm's attempt at a replica. Kenta told me that it was crafted by none other than Kurt himself."

"Is that what Kenta is giving you as payment, then?" Hibiki asked him. Eusine nodded. "He couldn't promise me Suicune, but he said he'd give me the next best thing. If this ball actually works, it will be the end of a ten-year wild goose chase." Eusine smiled fiercely. "Normally, my better judgment would resist any snake-oil salesman trying to pass off a painted pokeball for a Master Ball. But I remember Kenta back from the Raikou incident, when he was still around your age." Eusine nodded to himself. "That kid was spectacular. He and Marina fought off a couple of elite Rockets attempting to catch a wild Raikou using the most unethical methods. But then when they were gone, he didn't try to take the Raikou for himself, even after it collapsed. And after those Rockets came back to finish the job, we finished them."

Eusine breathed in through his nose, and let it out with a satisfied sigh. "Good times," he said dreamily. "I'd like to relive that again a couple times more, before I retire."

"Well, you're certainly bound for some adventure," Hibiki replied, watching as Eusine reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. "Did Kenta tell you which pokémon he was after?"

"Of course. That's why we're headed to my Range Rover."

Eusine pressed a button on his keychain, and in a parking lot just ahead, a large vehicle chirped loudly and flared its four-way flashers. The inside lights came on, revealing Marina in the back seat, and Kenta with his hood on, and face in shadow. When Hibiki opened the door to take the front passenger seat, Marina put a finger to her lips in a "shh" indication and pointed at Kenta. Understanding that he was asleep, Eusine started the vehicle, and they drove in silence for a few minutes. He didn't speak until they had pulled into a gas station, where he muttered "Back in five," before shutting the door behind him. Hibiki turned around in his seat and shot Marina a grateful smile.

"That was quick," he whispered. "How'd you find Eusine so fast?"

"He happened to be in the area," Marina replied. "I think he was drawn by the rumors that Ho-oh had come back, and was still searching when I found him. The clothes were a dead giveaway."

"Okay. Uh . . ." Hibiki looked at Kenta. "Should I wake him up? Kenta told me to fill him in on the meeting."

"We'd better not," said Marina softly. "Kenta was a wreck when I saw him. He was feeling guilty about some things that he'd said, and he looked so upset that I had to hold him until he'd calmed down." In the shadow of the dark car, Hibiki could not quite make out Marina's expression, but her voice was quivering with pity. "He cried himself to sleep, right here in my arms. To be honest, Hibiki, I think the pressure is becoming too much for him."

"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," muttered Hibiki, recalling the Bible scripture in his mind. "We're up to our necks in his plan by now, but the last stretch is still a distance away. We've freed Kurt and duplicated the Master Ball. We've rallied trainers and criminals alike to prepare for war. And we finally managed to get hold of the Snag Machine- and used it against the authorities." Hibiki pulled back the folds of his cloak to show Marina his left arm, where the Snag Machine was still firmly attached. "Ah," she whispered, impressed. Hibiki covered it back up. "We've stepped on so many toes and committed so much treason by now, that we might be executed on sight," he said bleakly. "We haven't even been listening to the radio lately. I know we should, but I'm afraid of what I'll hear."

"Well . . . how much more do you have to go?" prodded Marina inquisitively. "Surely there can't be that much left to do. The next step is catching a legendary pokémon, right?"

"I don't know about catching, but we do need to find one," affirmed Hibiki.

"Did Kenta tell you which one?"

"Yeah." Hibiki turned to face the front again, and pulled his seatbelt tight. "Mewtwo."

...

Nobody spoke for the remainder of the drive, mainly because sleep overtook the passengers. Hibiki wondered at his own incredible exhaustion. He had no idea how long he was out, or how far they had traveled, but it might have been longer if he hadn't suddenly been shaken awake. A sudden shift of balance caused his whole body to smack against the side door, and he immediately jerked upright, fully awake. Next to him in the driver's seat, Eusine plowed on, undeterred. Hibiki looked out at the road ahead, wondering if the car's sudden shaking had been because of poor construction work. However, there were no potholes to be seen; only a great mountain wall to the left, and a guardrail on the right. They were climbing a slope.

All at once, the car rocked again, and this time Hibiki adjusted in time to avoid banging his shoulder. Behind him, Marina yelped, but Kenta didn't even stir. For a moment, Hibiki wondered how he could sleep through these conditions. Then again, he supposed that he shouldn't be too surprised. If there was anyone who needed rest from his labors right now, it was Kenta.

"I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about these high winds," muttered Eusine in a flat voice. His eyes were drooping slightly. "Even with the Range Rover, there is a small chance that we could get blown right over."

Hibiki's heart rate sped up at these words, and he looked a second time out at the guard rail, which was all that separated them from a 300-foot-drop. He glanced at Eusine. "Are you kidding me? It's just the WIND doing this?"

"You sound surprised. But the area around Mount Quena is notoriously dangerous. Even tour buses have been known to blow over around here."

"Then how can you be so calm?" This time, it was Marina who voiced what was on Hibiki's mind. Even as she said it, the vehicle shuddered violently again. Eusine shrugged and smiled. "Nobody's ever been reported to have died, or even been injured, in spite of these circumstances. Every potential victim has come out of their crisis miraculously unharmed. It's as if a guardian spirit lives in this area, watching over the welfare of passerby."

"A guardian spirit, huh?" Hibiki thought about their mission. "So you think it's Mewtwo?"

"To make a long story short, yeah." Eusine stifled a yawn with his hand, and rubbed one of his eyes. "Of course, rumors alone aren't enough for people like me, who make a profession out of searching for legendary creatures. But part of the reason I agreed to help Kenta with this task so soon, is that I've been to this area of Johto before. The water around here was renowned for its mineral goodness, so I arrived with expectations of finding the elusive Suicune."

Eusine yawned again, and while Hibiki picked up some definite enthusiasm in his voice, he could tell that the man was fighting to stay awake. He had driven all night, and they would not be able to go much further. Thankfully, they wouldn't need to.

"Well, Suicune never appeared to me. I did, however, see something unusual while I was hiking along the river: a Pikachu with strange, blotted markings all over its fur. And here, of all places. What are the odds of seeing a marked-up Pikachu out of its natural habitat?

"I reasoned that it might have belonged to another trainer, but it acted feral. And I later found out that those markings were astonishingly similar to those of the creatures in the file photos of the Mew Clone Project." Eusine smirked at the memory. "But you know what REALLY inspired me to look into the Mew Clones afterward? Raw power. That one little rodent blew my Alakazam halfway to hell with a single Thunder attack. I've never even seen trained pokémon deliver that much force before."

Hibiki waited for him to say more, but Eusine remained silent for a while. Eventually, Marina spoke up again.

"So how'd you get away from that dangerous situation?"

Eusine laughed humorlessly. "What else could I do? I fled for my life. I ran fast as I could, without looking back."

He cut the wheel in a sudden sharp left turn, just as the road was leveling out. Hibiki looked, and through a clutter of pine trees, he could make out the structure of a tall house in the distance. Eusine nodded at the site, looking pleased with himself. "And this is the very place where I ended up. We'll be crashing here, if you don't mind."

Hibiki gazed at the cabin-house as they pulled up the gravel drive. There were no other cars parked at the end, and he couldn't detect any evidence of occupation. No seasonal decorations, no steam coming from the chimney, no lights from through the window, nothing. "Eusine," he began uncertainly, "I understand if you need to sleep, but . . . is it really okay for us to do this? Does anyone live here?"

"Well, there was a guy here last time," Eusine replied, bringing the vehicle to a halt and shutting off the engine. "But occupied or not, we should be fine, even if we have trespassed without notice. The resident here was a good man. He didn't speak much, but he healed my Alakazam and let me stay the night. We can trust him."


	38. Chapter 38

A/N: As seamless as I've tried to make it, this was the point where I stopped this story in 2009, and where I picked up just a few months ago. If there is a change in my writing style after so many years, you'll probably pick it up, but I can't at this time. Hopefully the quality isn't diminished.

...

Hibiki gazed at the cabin-house as they pulled up the gravel drive. There were no other cars parked at the end, and he couldn't detect any evidence of occupation. No seasonal decorations, no steam coming from the chimney, no lights from through the window, nothing. "Eusine," he began uncertainly, "I understand if you need to sleep, but . . . is it really okay for us to do this? Does anyone live here?"

"Well, there was a guy here last time," Eusine replied, bringing the vehicle to a halt and shutting off the engine. "But occupied or not, we should be fine, even if we have trespassed without notice. The resident here was a good man. He didn't speak much, but he healed my Alakazam and let me stay the night. We can trust him."

Marina shook Kenta. "Hey," she whispered. "Rise and shine. We're here."

Kenta stirred, groaned, and placed a hand on his forehead. "My head hurts."

"We're pretty far above sea level," said Hibiki, opening his door. "Just yawn a lot, and focus on your breathing."

"I'm already yawning a lot," mumbled Eusine, trudging up the gravel path to the cabin porch. "I should just sleep right there in the car." As Hibiki started to follow him, he caught a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye- the flash of a blue, duck-billed head peeked at them from around the side of the cabin. It was gone a second later.

 _A pokémon?_ he thought, though nobody else seemed to have taken notice.

They gathered at the wooden door, and Eusine knocked three times. A few seconds passed, and nobody answered, although the wind began to pick up again. Marina groaned. "Great. Cold AND windy. Eusine, try the door and see if it's unlocked."

"People do lock their doors, even out here," Eusine said back, but he reached for the knob anyway. Before his hand touched, the cabin door suddenly swung open inwards, and they stood face-to-face with a tall, thin man wearing a brown duster coat. Hibiki swallowed guiltily, thinking about how close they might have been to walking right into an occupied place, but the man's eyes lit up in recognition, and Eusine smiled.

"Well, hello Eusine. You're out and about early. I was just about to head off for some morning fishing."

"Ah, I'm terribly sorry to intrude." Eusine pointed behind him at Kenta, Marina, and Hibiki. "These are my friends, and we were traveling through but couldn't find a place to stay in the area. Guys-" he turned around and held his arm up to the brown-coated man in the cabin. "This is Mr. Durai. He's a pokémon veterinarian."

Kenta held out his hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"Ralts!"

Everyone looked down. At Mr. Durai's feet stood a pokémon barely a foot tall, with a white body, a green helmet-head, and a rounded red horn on its forehead. A moment later, another mostly-white pokémon glided from the back room of the cabin. Hibiki recognized the two pokémon as Ralts and Togetic: two relatively valuable pokémon known for their sensitivity. Ralts looked them over for a few seconds, while Togetic hovered the group in circles. Hibiki got the feeling that they were being scanned, but ironically, he found the presence of the pokémon pleasurable.

"All right, that's enough," laughed Mr. Durai, stepping back from the doorway. "Let's not leave our guests out in the cold wind. Come, warm yourselves by the fire. Unless you have any luggage to carry?"

"No, it's just us. It was a very impromptu trip." Eusine smiled apologetically and crossed the threshold of the door. "Thank you. I really am sorry to be coming to you for aid a second time-" He stumbled suddenly, right as he was passing Mr. Durai, and fell in a kneeling position. Hibiki gasped, and Marina hurried to help him to his feet. "If you were really this exhausted, you could've asked me to drive part of the way," she said, mildly reproachful. "Especially if we were driving on steep slopes like that."

"Yeah, but here's the thing. Nobody touches my baby's steering wheel but me."

Hibiki put a fist to his mouth to stifle a laugh and turned to Kenta, but the laughter died on his lips as he saw his brother's facial expression. Kenta was staring, not at Eusine, but at Mr. Durai's left leg, where Eusine had just been. His expression, just moments ago dull from sleep, was sharp and curious.

Mr. Durai turned and headed into the living room with them, while Togetic shut the door behind him. The room was the largest in the house, with several chairs and couches in a u-shape facing the main mantelpiece. As Durai had said, there was a roaring fire in the hearth, and the group gathered gladly around it. Eusine sighed and dropped sideways on the middle couch, his head plopping onto the cushion.

"I just need . . . a moment . . ." And he was sound asleep.

Mr. Durai looked at Eusine's dozing form for a moment with a sympathetic smile, then glanced over at his teenage audience, still standing. "Well, then. I suppose you'll have to catch me up. What's your story?"

"Uh . . ." Hibiki froze up. What were they supposed to tell this man? That they were patrolling the area on a hunt for Mewtwo and Suiciune? Their actions represented the most extreme defiance to G.R.I.P.'s policies of owning uber pokémon. Not to mention, it risked revealing the fact that they had Master Balls. He and Marina both turned and looked expectantly at Kenta. This was, after all, his plan.

There it was again: that odd, scrutinizing stare, as if Kenta was looking through Mr. Durai and seeing something that nobody else was. "Is this your way of giving us a chance to explain ourselves?" he asked finally, quietly, almost to himself.

Hibiki looked at him doubtfully. "Uh . . . Kenta? Yeah. That's why he asked."

But then he caught sight of Mr. Durai's face: it was also scrutinizing, calculating, eyes narrowed and focused. The room's atmosphere went from warm and friendly to hot and tense in a matter of seconds.

"I will answer your question," Kenta said after another long pause. "But I think it would only be polite to catch my friends up with what's going on."

"Yeah, what IS going on?" asked Marina nervously. "Why are you guys glaring at each other? He just took us in!"

"Maybe. But what is he, I wonder?" asked Kenta. "Mr. Durai, I offered you my hand outside, but you didn't take it."

Hibiki felt his indignation rising. "Oh, come on- you're mad because he didn't shake your hand?"

"And there we stood, with the wind whipping around, but your clothes never moved an inch. And then, when Eusine fell over from lack of sleep, I SAW him fall through you."

Now it was Marina's turn to confront Kenta. "Wha- what are you saying? That he's a ghost?"

"Here, catch." With a sudden flick of his wrist, Kenta sent a Ragecandybar spinning at Mr. Durai. The man veered out of the way, and the chocolate bar struck the wall under the stairs. "Heh. You were fast enough to dodge it this time."

"Kenta!" Hibiki injected, horrified. "Stop throwing candy at our host!"

"I thought he'd be hungry," Kenta responded, shrugging. "You see, he claimed that he was just about to head out on a fishing trip. But I don't see any rods or nets. Do you?"

"Kenta, you are out of line!" said Marina sharply, launching herself off her chair and marching angrily over to his cushion. "What has gotten into you?"

Kenta sat in her shadow, looking at her with cool reserve. "So, you don't buy any of my observations, huh? You think I'm just seeing things?"

"Maybe! I don't know, but this isn't like you! Where is your sense of courtesy?"

"Check the back wall."

"Don't give me that-"

"No, just trust me on this. The back wall, under the stairs. What do you see?"

"Your stupid candy bar!"

"No, above that."

Marina heaved an exasperated sigh. "I don't know what you want me to look at."

"Your shadow."

"What about it?"

"You and Mr. Durai are the only two people standing right now."

"So?"

A grim smile settled into Kenta's face. "Where's his?"

Marina's eyes shot back up to the wall, as did Hibiki's. One shadow. They both turned to stare back at Mr. Durai, who smiled and crossed his arms before him. "So," he said in an impressed voice, "I applaud your observation ability. It is far keener than any human's I have seen for a long time, Eusine's included. You are correct. I'm not really here at all."

"It takes an observer to know an observer," Kenta said, facing 'Mr. Durai' fully. "I'm still wondering about your ability to read minds though. It's not an accident that you just happen to have a Ralts and a Togetic standing sentinel at the door- pokémon whose specialty is reading people's hearts and intentions. We 'passed the test' if I'm not mistaken. But that takes us back to the original question: 'What could these well-intentioned people be doing way up here in the mountain, where one of them met a super-powered Pikachu?' A little different than 'tell me your story,' perhaps, but it's more specific."

"Careful," said Mr. Durai lightly. "You'll make too many assumptions."

"Until we establish trust, I have to," Kenta replied. "It's an uphill battle for one who has cloaked his identity from the start."

"You mean like you did?" Hibiki blurted out. He inwardly chastised himself. Kenta turned and looked at him, annoyed, yet slightly amused. "Not the time and place, runt. And I didn't start out with disguises."


	39. Chapter 39

A/N: Thanks for your continued support and feedback. At the time I'm posting this, it says I've got 21 reviews, but I'm only able to actually see twelve of them. If you posted a review after the twentieth of September, I promise I'm not ignoring you; I just can't see it for whatever reason.

...

The room went silent. Mr. Durai tapped his foot, but it made no noise on the floor. "Well . . . where do we go from here?"

"I've got it!" Marina pitched in. "How about quid pro quo? In this case, answer a question, ask a question."

Mr. Durai smiled. "Interesting. Alright then."

Kenta nodded. "Good thinking. Mr. Durai- I'll just call you that for now- I'll let you go first, since you are still our host, after all. Same question?"

Durai nodded back. "Same question. But in the original wording. Tell me your story."

"Alright. I'll be truthful, but also brief. If you want details, you'll have to ask more questions."

In less than two minutes, Kenta summarized the G.R.I.P. standards, his goal to get back Typholsion, and the different places his quest had taken them. For nearly every place, he withheld his reason for going.

"Quid pro quo," he said, "How long have you been aware of us?"

"In human reckoning, about twenty-two minutes. I am aware of all the happenings within my domain of territory." Mr. Durai winked. "I threw in that little extra tidbit since your answer was longer, just to be fair. Now: quid pro quo. Why does your story end up here? What is your business?"

"Business, ah, business . . ." Kenta reached into his pokeball belt, and widened a purple-topped ball. Hibiki recognized it as one of the Master Balls, possibly Zapdos's. "You didn't know after all. I came to show this to Mewtwo."

Mr. Durai stared at the ball in frozen astonishment, bordering on horror. Kenta looked at his hard-faced reflection on the sphere's shiny surface. "Quid pro quo. Who am I speaking with right now? Is it you . . . Mewtwo?"

There was a long silence from Mr. Durai. " . . . Yes."

"Boy, you've got some amazing astral projection skills, let alone image projection. I'll bet it would be easier to just have a slave under mind-control, right?"

"(Don't give him ideas!)" hissed Marina furiously.

"I stopped doing that a long time ago." For the first time, Hibiki detected anger in Mr. Durai- Mewtwo's voice. "Quid pro quo," said Mewtwo curtly. "I see that you carry the ultimate tool of enslavement. What are your feelings about the pokémon restrictions on trainers?"

"Overwhelmingly negative," said Kenta without hesitation. "But I see why you might disagree, so let me elaborate. Before a pokémon was ever an engine capable of mass destruction, it was a travel companion and a friend through trials and tribulation. If it were to retire at the end of a pokémon journey, and find a place in home or society, I could accept that. But the people in the highest government position have an entirely different agenda in mind: one in which they take every superior pokémon they can obtain- forever. And they will use the power of these pokémon as a weapon of force and submission against all. It won't stop there, either. You should order a newspaper subscription, Mewtwo! A lot goes on outside your boundary field of awareness."

Kenta took a deep breath and passed a hand over his face, composing himself. "Quid pro quo," he said in a much quieter voice. "How can I be sure that you are really Mewtwo, and not some technology or other pokémon capable of casting illusions? Don't say that you fear getting captured by me. You could telekinetically destroy any of my balls in an instant, then wring out my brain."

"The worst I would do is put you under a hypnotic sleep of forgetfulness," replied Mewtwo. "But I will not touch any guest that Ralts and Togetic trust. As for your question- assuming it's not a request for a face-to-face meeting- you must understand that I conceal myself for the peace and safety of all around me. You are hardly the first trainer who has sought for me since my existence was made public. Golduck!"

The cabin door opened, and everyone turned to look at the figure framed in the doorway. A blue duck pokémon walked in on its hind legs, colored like any other of its kind, except for blotches of test tube fluid upon parts of its skin. In his head, Hibiki noted that this was the blue creature he had caught a glimpse of, before it had disappeared around the corner of the cabin.

"I won't reveal myself to you, and risk exposure to the whole pokémon trainer world," continued Mewtwo. "But here is my signature mark: a superior pokémon clone that I made as my companion years ago. Behold, the world's most powerful Golduck."

Hibiki straightened as recognition hit him. "It's like the Pikachu that Eusine met in the story he told me!" he cried.

"Indeed. I involved myself with him then, because we had ended up hurting his Alakazam." A tone of sympathy came into Mewtwo's voice. "It's a long story, but Pikachu had been trying to keep out of sight, and he overreacted when Eusine spotted him. I came to know Eusine from there, and about how he wants to see Suicune. And I know Eusine's heart now. He will not try to make Suicune his slave for fame and glory. He worships Suicune, and wants only to bask in its presence."

 _Then why does he want it in a Master Ball?_ Hibiki wondered.

Mewtwo paused, then spoke again. "Are you satisfied? Or would you rather battle Golduck and gauge his strength for yourself?"

Kenta closed his eyes and smiled. "I can tell that you're speaking the truth. I'll pass on the battle, but only reluctantly. You've just given me an itch to test myself as a trainer."

"Then I will ask the next question. Quid pro quo: what are you going to do with that Master Ball, and all the others?"

This question caused Kenta to take a deep breath and let it out, as though he were about to deliver some unwelcome news. "The word 'you' can be used for plural as well as singular, so there are two answers to that question," he said, grimacing. "We, the human collective, will eventually use the Master Ball technology to subjugate every pokémon we want for our own uses. We will capture the embodiments of land and water, time and space, light and darkness, and yes . . . even you. Those doing the capturing will most likely not be satisfied with ruling over pokémon, but their fellow men as well.

"And what would I do with this Master Ball, and all the other Master Balls that- yes- I have created? I will give them to Japan's greatest trainers, so that their best pokémon get returned to them first."

Mewtwo spoke out, alarm in his voice. "But in doing this, you greatly risk exposing the secrets of the Master Ball! Its manufacture will surely increase!"

"No doubt," said Kenta grimly. "Less than ten hours ago, I gave one to each of the rogue teams of the regions. Including Team Rocket."

The silence following Kenta's statement was so thick with tension that Hibiki couldn't breathe. Mr. Durai's form blinked and vanished, but Mewtwo's voice remained. It was now soft, low, and carried a deadly chill.

"You . . . did . . . what?"

Marina cringed and curled up meekly in a ball on her chair. Kenta's face was impassive, but it glistened with sweat. The sudden terror of Mewtwo was upon them, and for the first time, their pokémon couldn't save them from the worst. If Kenta didn't explain his actions to Mewtwo's satisfaction, and quickly, Mewtwo might just bring the cabin crashing down on their heads.

"It's like nuclear weapons," Kenta said thickly, sounding as though he was struggling to speak through his fear. "Once we had discovered how to use them, we couldn't un-discover them-"

"YOU GAVE TEAM ROCKET A MASTER BALL!"

"Because Team Rocket is a lesser evil!" Kenta shouted back, though tears were forming in his eyes and his fists were pressed against the sides of his head. "It is better to have power distributed evenly amongst good and bad people, than for it to all be concentrated into one ruling elite with a god complex! And that's the choice G.R.I.P. forced me to make!"

The ground around them began to quake, and the walls of the cabin creaked and groaned as if under a sudden, enormous pressure. Eusine jerked awake with a gasp. Marina covered her eyes. Ralts and Togetic cried out in fright, grasping on to both of Golduck's legs. Hibiki had thrown himself down on the floor in panic, but as soon as he heard "Mr. Durai's" pokémon crying, the anomaly ceased. Apparently, Mewtwo had noticed too.

"I cannot let this stand," came Mewtwo's voice, tight with controlled fury. "Why did you seek me out to share such a distasteful conversation? Was it to mock me, after I have done my utmost to be quarantined from human society? Team Rocket made me for the sole purpose of enslavement, and nearly killed me to keep me that way. And now you have assured that fate for all the free pokémon of the world!"

"No," said Kenta doggedly, breathing hard. "That was the path humanity was on. I did what I could to alter it."

"The legendary pokémon have kept the balance of power between people and pokémon until now," Mewtwo rumbled. "But who will keep the balance when you humans have snapped them all up?"

"We will. And we won't allow it to go that far."

"I don't trust humans."

"You've made that pretty clear. But you don't have a choice anymore."

"Oh? Don't I?" asked Mewtwo, again in a dangerously low voice.

"What will you do?" asked Kenta insistently. "Destroy every Master Ball? Kill every human with the knowledge of its make? Gather an army and overthrow the human race, to assure that it can never be made again?"

"(Shut up, Kenta, shut up,)" mumbled Eusine.

"That IS my choice to make," Mewtwo declared.

"But it doesn't seem to be your way," Kenta countered. "Didn't you say that you conceal yourself for the peace and safety of all around you? Unlike the technological civil war I have planned, a pokémon overthrow would be a bloody affair with enormous casualties on your hands. Listen! I didn't seek you out to mock you, but to ask for your help, if only for the sake of the pokémon who have already been separated from their trainers."

Mewtwo laughed humorlessly. "Let them be separated from their trainers! The more, the better. Why would I help you stop that?"

"Because of where they go afterward," Kenta replied. "Allow to me now to reveal what I saw, just before I committed myself to this whole crusade."


	40. Chapter 40

_Three down, two to go_.

Kenta was in a dark room, blacker even than the long-sleeve shirt and pants he was wearing to avoid detection. He had done well up until this point. After being shot almost dead, revived, and nursed undercover, he had gone on the offensive. With Bolt and Zapdos always hiding nearby, he had bought himself some new clothes, dug up some old information, and signed himself up for the upcoming Pokémon League tournament. If his research was correct, his old pokémon team was still standing by in the League's holding facility. Where exactly that was, he couldn't be sure, but the League Record Room would doubtless hold some answers. Thus far, he had managed to book a room, slip past some light security, and patter through three of the Elite Four arenas. The only trouble he'd received was in Koga's arena, where he'd tripped over an invisible cord and had to duck to avoid an oncoming spider web. Koga's Ariados emerged from the shadows to subdue him for good, but then Bolt had struck from above and smashed the large spider to the floor with a well-aimed Aerial Ace. Kenta was grateful; having the Salamence nearby was like having a personal drone that looked out for his safety. Now they walked together, unchallenged through Bruno's chamber, and into the unnatural darkness that was Karen's domain.

A light appeared on the stairway leading to the next room. Kenta's heart sunk as he recognized it as the flicker of a lit match. A woman's soft laughter emerged from the dark.

"Are you lost, child?" she said. "That is, if you stumbled past the guard and all this way by accident."

Kenta cursed his luck, which seemed to abandon him at the end of need, and prepared his mind for battle. "I'm here to look into the status of my challenge team, as is my right," he answered steadily.

"And you came all the way out here to do that?" she asked in an amused voice. "All you have to do is access any public computer, and simply type in your password to receive that information. Or are you going to tell me that you forgot your password?"

She was right. It was a lousy excuse, and Kenta knew it. Now that he had been caught, he could try to lie his way out of the situation and try again another night, or he could fight this woman on the spot, and risk raising the alarm. Or . . . he could take a giant gamble to his harm or favor- and tell the truth. She was, after all, toying with him.

"I didn't forget my password," he replied. "It's only two letters long: Au. Ringing any bells?"

The lights lifted, revealing the form of a long-haired woman in a one-piece black dress. Karen, Dark-type specialist of the Elite Four. "Golden bells," she replied, smiling slyly at her would-be trespasser. "Hello, Kenta. Your voice has gotten deeper. And you seem a little less . . ." She put a finger to the tip of her nose, as if pondering for the word. "Well, less _dead_ than the media portrayed you as being."

"So you remember."

"I remember any Pokémon Master that's beaten me." Karen crossed her arms and puffed out her cheeks in a mild pouting manner. "Although I can't say our battle was very amusing. All you used was a Heracross."

"Don't be upset with me," Kenta said, raising his hands innocently. "You told me to try winning with my favorites. Well, Heracross is one of them." He turned his tone serious. "I also remember what you said right before that. 'Strong pokémon. Weak pokémon. That is only the selfish perception of trainers.' Take a look at the world now. G.R.I.P. doesn't seem to view potency as subjectively as you do."

Karen snorted and turned around, stuffing her lighter in her pocket. "We'll see about that. They've already expanded restrictions from the Uber tier of pokémon to partially include the Over-Used tier."

Kenta smiled grimly. "Good thing you're part of the program, or you'd be at risk of losing your dear Umbreon."

"I'm not with G.R.I.P.!" Karen shot back, turning around and looking at him, uncharacteristically serious. "Nor are any of the Elite Four. Only the Champion has a political obligation to go along with it, and he does so reluctantly."

Upon hearing this, Kenta's heart lightened a little. "I hear the Hoenn Champ feels the same way. But let's not talk about that." He looked into Karen's eyes. "You're probably wondering why I'm really here."

"And why you have a Salamence with you," Karen said, with an upraised eyebrow. "For a moment, I'd thought Lance was playing a joke on me."

"He's with me," Kenta answered quickly. "But that's not really important right now. Look, I'm still supposed to be dead, and I'd really like it if people continued to think of me that way for stealth reasons. I want to get my original pokémon team back."

"But you see, that's a problem for me," Karen interjected, pacing back and forth in front of the stairway to the next room. "I'm on watch duty tonight, and if any monkey business ensues, it's going to be my ass on the line. Not that fat slob on guard duty out front."

Kenta groaned. "This is kind of a big deal for me-"

"You didn't let me finish," said Karen smoothly. "You're a Pokémon Master, which by definition means that you've beaten a region's Elite Four at least once before. So if a Pokémon Master beats me in a battle, I won't be held quite so accountable."

"I don't want to have to fight you-" Kenta began tiredly. Up came Karen's hand to silence him again.

"You still didn't let me finish. All we have to do is provide sufficient evidence that will convince investigators that a Pokémon Master broke through the lines of defense."

Kenta blinked, surprised. "Uh . . . okay. But why help me, what are you getting out of-" He closed his mouth a third time as Karen gave him another look.

"Let me finish, and I'll tell you. The fact is . . ." She looked away from him, and tossed her hair distractedly. "There's been some strange activity going on here lately. A bunch of guys in black suits and glasses have been coming back and forth through the rooms, all with official guest tags and proper paperwork of course, but no clear purpose. And they're always carrying briefcases in both hands, as if bringing Lance literally thousands of legal documents to sign. It's just a little too fishy if you ask me."

Karen met Kenta's eye, grinning devilishly. "I'd like an excuse for a closer look."

Kenta stared at her for a couple of seconds.

"I'm done. You can talk now."

"Thanks. I think." Kenta pointed at her pokeball belt. "So how are we going to do this? Should Bolt just beat the crap out of those two right now, and you ask their forgiveness later?"

"Let's hold off my need for forgiveness as long as we can." Karen turned to head up the steps, waving Kenta on. "Follow me."

Lance's arena chamber was decorated how Kenta remembered it: statues of dragons on either side, with a retractable ceiling that gave a dazzling view of the starry night sky overhead. The Champion's throne resembled a giant chair, out of which grew a large stone Charizard roaring at the heavens. The battle floor was a different shade of cement than Kenta remembered during his battle with the dragon master, but that was to be expected, considering how much punishment his pokémon could dish out.

"Man," he muttered as they passed through, "this takes me back. Second-hardest battle of my life."

"Second hardest?" Karen echoed inquiringly, sounding interested.

"Another story for another time."

They had arrived at the double-doors of a great room that looked like a mausoleum. Kenta reached out and felt the smooth stone texture, then noticed an electronic keypad on a side banister. He twisted around and looked back at Karen.

"Hey. Can you open this?"

She gave him a look like he was crazy. "I'm not allowed back there. You're the Pokémon Master, aren't you?"

"Yeah, but last time I came through, it wasn't locked. Hmm . . ." Kenta thought for a minute. "I'm no computer hacker. I could have Bolt smash right through these doors, but that would probably trigger an electric alarm. Unless I snuff that out too . . ."

He reached for his belt and widened the Master Ball. "Karen, I'm trusting you. Don't freak out when you see this."

The burst of light that issued from the ball barely diminished as it hovered like an angel above the two trainers. Karen stared at it in dumbfounded amazement.

"Is that . . . did you . . . a Zapdos?"

"Get a storm brewing," Kenta commanded, ignoring Karen's sputtering for the moment. "After five minutes, fry this panel with a lightning bolt."

Without hesitation, Zapdos ascended straight up, and the clear night sky was soon overcast. Karen watched for a couple minutes, then finally looked at Kenta again, overtly impressed.

"Well, well. Haven't you been busy."

Kenta didn't smile. "My work hasn't even started yet. And it may be at a hitch already; there wasn't supposed to be any kind of thunderstorm tonight. This will be a thin ruse to see through, but it's better than doing it direct." He signaled to Bolt. "Get ready. The moment that lightning strikes, use your Brick Break to force those doors."

"This is a lot of risk you're taking, just to look up a few entrusted pokémon," Karen said, looking around.

"I suspect I'll be finding a lot more than just my own pokémon, wherever they really are," Kenta muttered. "My hair's starting to stand on end. Back up a few paces, get on the ground, and hold your ears."

The two of them flattened themselves below the steps, taking care to avoid any and all metal. A few tense seconds passed, and then a lightning bolt lit up the area, issuing a crack of thunder so loud that it shook Kenta's teeth. Even before the sound had died away, a blue-red bolt of scales rammed the door with the force of a freight train. Kenta heard the stone collapse, but saw nothing else, as all artificial lighting had failed in the immediate vicinity.


	41. Chapter 41

"They'll have backup power on in seconds," Karen said. "Whatever you plan on doing, get a move on."

Kenta was already hopping over the leftover debris, pausing only for a moment to pat Bolt sympathetically as the dragon nursed his aching head. Then the power was back, and he found himself standing in the Champion Hall of Records. In various spots on the floor, jutting out like obelisks, were cartons with pokeball-sized holes, where each Pokémon Master had at one point placed his or her team to commemorate victory. As Kenta drew near his own monument, some machinery whirred to life, and there was a flash of lasers. Had it been Kenta's first time in the room, he would have panicked, but instead he simply watched as the lasers created virtual reality images of his champion team. Around him hovered six pokémon. Ampharos- an electric sheep that had initiated his match with Lance to take on his Gyarados. Togekiss- the evolved form of Togetic, given to him as a Togepi egg by Professor Elm. Heracross- a reliable stag beetle pokémon that had served him well ever since Ampharos had headbutted him out of a tree. Umbreon- the team tank, given to him by the computer genius, Bill. Dragonite- a special creature that knew the move Extremespeed, straight from the hands of the Dragon Den's keeper. And finally . . . Bakuphoon. Kenta's eyes moistened as he stared longer at the image of his cherished Typhlosion than any of the others. Bakuphoon, who had been with him since the journey's start, was out there somewhere. But where?

A virtual screen and keypad appeared out of Kenta's memorial. The screen contained two words: "ENTER PASSWORD." Taking care that he placed his fingers properly on the non-existent keyboard, Kenta typed the two letters "au" and hit enter.

"SHOWING CHAMPIONSHIP TEAM FOR NYNA, KENTA. AMPHAROS: LEVEL 46. RECORDED MOVESET: THUNDERPUNCH, THUN-"

 _Access storage location._

"AMPHAROS IS STORED IN BASEMENT FLOOR 1, FIFTH ROW, D SECTION. LEVEL I KEYCARD CLEARANCE REQUIRED."

Kenta froze and stared at the screen. Soundlessly, over his shoulder, Karen's head leaned in, also with wide-eyed awe. He glanced back at her.

"Karen, what's this 'basement floor 1'? Do you know anything about this?"

"No. I told you, I've never been in here before." Karen's eyes drifted upward. "Although . . ."

Kenta looked where she was looking. Another set of double-doors, this time to an elevator, stood invitingly in the back of the room. Karen raised her eyebrows. "If they were talking about another building, they would have indicated another building."

"Huh . . ." Kenta studied Karen's face closely, but she really did seem to know nothing about their discovery. "It looks to me like the Elite Four has been serving a double purpose at the least. You've unknowingly been the guardians to a very secret storage facility- one separate from the general holding space Bill created."

He turned back to the screen and tried accessing a different storage location.

"DRAGONITE IS STORED IN BASEMENT FLOOR 4, SECOND ROW, D SECTION. LEVEL IV KEYCARD CLEARANCE REQUIRED."

"It sure didn't say this online." Kenta glanced up. "Looks like the multiple layers are determined by the pokémon's lethality. Not knocking Ampharos, but he was nowhere near Dragonite's level of power. I wonder how much further down it goes."

"I'm sure you can check the elevator," Karen said. A sudden beep from behind her waist caused both of them to jump, and Karen reached around and pulled out a radio. "I'm getting a call," she hissed to Kenta, and he nodded and kept silent.

"Karen," came a man's static voice on the other end, "the power got knocked out on our end, but most of it is back up. The electricians are assessing damage, and it seems the storm hit your area hardest. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Karen said in a businesslike tone. "But the lightning seems to have hit right behind the Champion's arena. I told you guys to install a lightning rod at the highest point of the Indigo Plateau."

"Hey, I'm just the messenger guy," the man's voice came again, slightly defensive. "Besides, Lance is the one who insists it will look ugly and out of place. Take it up with him. Ugh . . . look, we'll have a crew down in about ten minutes."

"Take your time," said Karen casually. "I'd go check out the spot myself, but I don't buy into the theory that lightning never strikes the same place twice."

"Ten-four," said the man, and the radio went out. Karen went rigid. "They're coming. You've got ten minutes at most, Kenta. Kenta?"

Bolt had already pried the elevator doors open in the back, and Kenta was stomping on the floor. "I heard you," he said, backing out of the elevator box. "No emergency opening. Well, of course it won't have one with this kind of restricted access. Bolt, I'm gonna need all your fire breath for this. Melt a circle in the bottom!"

"You're still going?" Karen asked, amazed.

"Of course," said Kenta, turning back to the virtual keyboard as Bolt burned like a blow torch. "I didn't come this far to back out now. Where are you, Baku . . ."

"So tell me," Karen said with a bemused expression, "how do you plan on getting down the elevator shaft without any rope? Flapping your arms?"

Kenta stopped and looked up at her. In spite of the circumstances, she laughed out loud. "Your face! Ha ha! That just made my week. But don't worry, I've got Murkrow right here. He can fly you down, as he's the only one small enough to fit in the shaft."

Kenta exhaled a breath of pent-up tenseness. "God. Thanks, Karen."

"Aren't you glad you didn't beat them up before?" Karen's face ceased smiling. "But seriously, I hope you don't make a habit of going off and doing things half-baked. You need to have a plan for the future."

"I'll keep that in mind," Kenta said, bringing up Bakuphoon's data.

"TYPHLOSION'S STORAGE LOCATION IS REDACTED."

Kenta's senses dulled for a moment as his hope went plunging into the pit of his stomach. Of all the pokémon, why did it have to be him?

Bolt gave a roar as the floor of the elevator gave way and dropped into the pit.

"Kenta, we need to make a deal right now," Karen declared, apparently unaware of his sudden sense of loss. "I can't go down there, but you can. Promise me that whatever you find, you tell me about. I won't rat you out. And one other thing- you need to make this convincing. Before you leave, hit me with a Thunderbolt."

That last sentence brought Kenta back to reality. "What?!"

"You heard me. If they find me unconscious, I'll be able to claim that I couldn't stop you, or even see you. Just don't hit too hard, okay?"

Kenta bit his lip, hating all the things he had to consider in this crucial period of time, but her words made sense. However, he would have little control over how much Zapdos could hold back when delivering an electrical shock.

"Send Murkrow out," he said. "I'll do as you ask, but from the perspective of the outsider looking in, you're freaking insane. You know that, right?"

"You're one to talk," Karen laughed, as Murkrow appeared, flapping in midair. "Now quick, raise your left arm. He'll grab onto it and support your weight all the way down. He's not an Elite Four pokémon for nothing."

Kenta didn't fully appreciate Murkrow's strength until he was already through the elevator hole and hovering down the shaft. The bird couldn't have weighed more than the average house cat, and yet it was supporting his hundred and forty pounds of weight like nothing, while flapping its wings like a hummingbird.

One basement floor drifted past. Then another- then another. Fourth floor. Dragonite and several other uber pokémon would be stored here, no doubt. Kenta pressed himself into the space where the double-doors would normally receive the elevator, and Murkrow forced them apart with its beak. Kenta tugged them further open, until he could squeeze through and look around. If possible, it was even darker than Karen's arena had been, and Kenta slapped at the right wall, groping for a switch. Something flipped up in his hand.

Light poured over the room, revealing a scene that Kenta could only compare to his first time in the back of a pokémon center. It was like a pokémon library then and now: rows upon rows of pokeballs, in all varieties: basic capsule ball, Great Ball, Ultra Ball, Dive Ball, Nest Ball, Safari Ball, Net Ball, and on and on. The place was about the size of a high school auditorium, and towards the back, the pokeball holding shelves became empty. Boxes of power tools littered the ground at the base of a raw dirt wall.

 _They're expanding down here,_ thought Kenta. _They need more room!_

He couldn't begin to fathom how many highly-trained super pokémon were stocked in this room. His Dragonite was just one of several, possibly dozens shelved in this tucked-away warehouse under the pokémon league. In the hands of an ambitious organization, the combined power concentrated down here might not take over the world, or even the continent. But it would probably be enough to overpower a small country in a few days' time. Was this the lowest floor? No . . . it was the one he had stopped on. But what could there possibly be further down, that required higher keycard clearance?

Kenta turned back towards the elevator shaft, then glanced for a moment over his shoulder. He wondered briefly if he should search for Dragonite's pokeball amidst this vast collection- nay, this armory- of elite pokémon. For a moment, he considered the time: at least three minutes had passed since he had come down here. Karen said he would have ten at very most. And if he found Dragonite's pokeball, what then? It would just get teleported back to G.R.I.P. storage like any official pokeball after a trainer had exceeded maximum party capacity.

 _Unless I break the ball, like I did with Bolt's,_ thought Kenta. But it was risky enough traveling around with one dragon out in the open. Having a Salamence AND a Dragonite out of pokeballs would surely get him caught sooner than later. Even so, Kenta could not just leave Dragonite down here, imprisoned in this facility to be used as a weapon of the government. They would have to separate, but Kenta would get Dragonite out of there.

"Section D, Row 2," muttered Kenta, going down a line of balls with his finger. "Aha!" There, sitting between an Ultra Ball and a Safari Ball, sat the only plain pokeball of the bunch. There was no doubt in Kenta's mind, as he reached out and lifted the ball up. A second later, it occurred to him that he may have triggered a silent alarm by removing a ball from its place, but at this point, it was too little, too late.


	42. Chapter 42

Murkrow cawed anxiously from its spot between the thrust-apart elevator doors. Heart racing, Kenta sprinted for the empty vertical shaft, thrusting his arm out for the bird pokémon to grasp. Murkrow dug in its claws and proceeded to ascend, but Kenta pulled back.

"No! We need to go to the bottom. I have to know what else they've got!"

"Are you okay down there?" came Karen's voice from above. "They're coming. You've got five minutes at best!"

Kenta acknowledged the warning but ignored the urgency. Murkrow continued descent for ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. A few moments more elapsed, then they touched down at the bottom, facing the final elevator doors.

"The fifth basement floor," muttered Kenta, preparing to tug the doors apart as Murkrow wedged its beak in. He noticed a crack of light between the doors. _That's weird. When I left the light on upstairs, did it light the whole place up?_

With a heave, he forced the doors.

The scene awaiting him was much like the fourth floor, with two notable exceptions. The first was a team of four men in white lab coats, who were lined up in front of the door. Three of them were holding pokeballs, while one had a cocked pistol in his hands, aiming at Kenta. Yet somehow, the firearm took a back seat to Kenta's second observation. In the middle of the room, at the center of all the shelves of pokeballs, was a transparent circular tube with green liquid inside. A nine-foot-tall creature drifted within the tube, strung up with a mess of wires, and a sort of breathing tube upon its face.

It was at this moment that Kenta first conceived in his mind that he might require the help of Mewtwo. He had heard of Mewtwo in the past; indeed, he had seen news reports showing blurry images of the creature, in sync with Giovanni's disappearance from Team Rocket. However, he had known little else, aside from rumors and obscure documents that a hacker friend had gotten off the deep web. It all came back to him now, as he gazed upon this creature floating in the test tube, guarded by doctors in lab coats who didn't seem the least bit pleased at being found out.

"Don't move!" shouted the gunman, leveling his pistol with Kenta's head. "Who are you? How did you get down here?"

Kenta's mind was made up in an instant. There was no way he would engage these guys in a battle, not when it was three-to-one, with a bullet aimed at his cranium. But nor could he stay there and cooperate under his time crunch, with reinforcements on the way who would probably kill him anyway. He was, after all, supposed to be dead already. Kenta jumped backward into the elevator shaft, launching himself sideways just enough to throw off the gunman's aim. There was a bang, and Kenta heard the bullet zing by his left ear.

"Murkrow! Up!" he cried, and a second later, he heard the men barking orders, followed by more bullets beneath his ascending feet.

"Go, Latios! Follow him!"

"You too, Latias!"

 _Latios and Latias?_ thought Kenta, erupting into a cold sweat as Murkrow flew up the shaft with all its strength. _No way . . . there's no way-_

Then he saw them. The psychic dragon siblings, Latios and Latias, came through the threshold further down the shaft and levitated their way towards him, fitting into the narrow confines just right. If they were to launch something like a Dragon Pulse or Luster Purge at him now, Kenta would surely die, or black out instantly from his injuries. He couldn't afford either, but he had no way to escape. In a vertical corridor, he would be hard to miss, unless Murkrow pulled him back into the room of the fourth floor. But even then, the Latis would simply corner him like a rat, and Bolt and Zapdos were simply too big to fit in the elevator shaft, to come to his aid.

 _Too big . . . wait a minute!_

With his free hand, Kenta reached for his belt and dropped the only occupied ball that still remained on it. "Dragonite! Outrage!"

From her position outside, Karen watched keenly as the Champion Hall of Records lit up with a sudden, blazing light. A few seconds later, Murkrow emerged from the heat, dragging a blackened and limp Kenta by the arm. Karen's eyes widened in concern.

"Kenta! Are you okay? What happened down there?"

Kenta coughed and grimaced, then came to life with a sudden vigor, twisting around and looking back. "Dragonite!" he cried, stumbling back toward the mausoleum. "I have to see if Dragonite's okay-"

There was another explosion of light and heat, and Dragonite came shooting up through the floor of the elevator, ripping the metal hole even wider. The dragon pokémon touched down in front of Kenta, covered in cuts and bruises, but eyes alight with battle furor.

"It has some scales missing!" Karen observed. "Kenta, is that-?"

"Multiscale," Kenta replied. "That's how he managed to survive just one round against the dragon siblings. But we can't count on that again." He placed his hands on Dragonite's shoulders, looking at his pokémon with fierce pride. "You need to get out of here, but not with me. Mount Silver isn't too far west of here. Use your Extremespeed to fly out there, and don't stop until you've reached the high caves. A friend of mine is at the summit, and I'm entrusting you to his care until I come to get you. Can you make it?"

Dragonite nodded, then glanced in curiosity at Zapdos and Bolt, who were hovering just a little ways further above them. Kenta glanced hurriedly back at the Hall of Records, where Latios and Latias would emerge any second. "There's no time to explain now. Go!"

For the few persistent trainers who had ever leveled a Dratini all the way to its Dragonite form, there was a bond of mutual understanding that developed between dragon and tamer. Dragonite was intelligent enough to understand human speech beyond just the typical commands that a dog trainer might issue, and one day, he would demand that Kenta reveal everything. But until then, he would trust and obey. Dragonite was off like a shot, retreating so fast that a sonic boom echoed through the area. A few seconds later, a blue blur and a red blur burst from the Hall of Records, pursuing the orange dragon that had forced them back down the elevator shaft earlier.

Kenta leaped onto Bolt's back and widened his Master Ball to receive Zapdos. "We can't linger, Karen, and it's better that you don't know what I saw, for when they question you. I hope to see you again!"

"Wait!" cried Karen, as the Salamence lifted off. "It has to look like you beat me! Remember?"

Kenta's stomach turned over, but there was nothing for it. Karen sure had guts.

"Zapdos. Thunderbolt."

...

Back in the cabin on Mt. Quena, there was a long silence.

"Kenta, why didn't you ever tell me any of this?" asked Marina at last, looking hurt.

"I didn't tell anybody," Kenta replied tiredly, his voice somewhat raspy from his story. "Except for Hibiki. He's the only one I could ask to get involved so deeply in this."

"And the only thing I regret is how little I've been able to help," Hibiki said stoutly. "So don't go feeling guilty about that again."

Mewtwo's voice returned. "So. The humans that you've made your leaders are storing up all of your most powerful pokémon in a stronghold under the Indigo Plateau."

"I suspect that's just one storage area," said Kenta. "There may be one in the Hoenn League Headquarters as well, and in Sinnoh, and any of the other regions where the protection is heaviest. But chances are, I stumbled upon the biggest stash, since Kanto and Johto are the only regions to combine under one Headquarters."

"But that's not the big take-away from this story," Hibiki added, feeling queasy at the thought of it. "The scary part is that Kenta might have encountered an artificial pokémon in the making, built to take on whole armies single-handedly."

"I don't have any proof of it," said Kenta in a regretful voice. "I didn't even take a picture, much less a camcorder. But I know what I saw, and when people are secretly making pokémon in a chamber already filled with bio-weapons, their intentions can't be pure."

"Perhaps they are keeping all these pokémon out of harm's way, in eternal stasis hibernation, and are preparing a guardian for them more suitable than a human like Karen," said Mewtwo with just a hint of slyness in his manner.

Kenta perked up angrily. "What's with this Devil's Advocate response all of a sudden? Do you doubt my judgment of character?"

"No. But I know now why you sought me out. You are afraid that, when you initiate this civil war of yours, you will lose before you can recapture enough super pokémon to put up a decent fight. And you want me to support you until then, to buy you the time you need. Especially if the other side has made their own Mewtwo."

To this, Kenta said nothing. He sat upon the couch, eyes glued to the end wall. Mewtwo went on.

"I will not expose myself or my friends to the world for any reason, unless humans confront me directly and threaten our safety and freedom. Perhaps you are right about everything, and perhaps I am shortsighted. But as things now stand, trainers may catch less pokémon, and they can wreak less havoc upon one another. I will watch and wait. But I will not help the person who gave Team Rocket a Master Ball."

"So, it comes back to me, huh?" Kenta's voice was strained, and he clasped his hands in front of him so tightly that the knuckles were white. "Y'know, you weren't my only hope. But you were my best hope."

The door to the cabin squeaked open by itself. "Please leave."

Eusine spoke up in a soft voice that surprised Hibiki; he had forgotten that the man was there. "You heard him. We should go. There's nothing left to discuss."

Kenta nodded, and allowed himself to be steered to the door by Marina at his one shoulder, and Hibiki at the other. But just as they reached the doorway, Kenta paused for a moment. "Hey, Golduck."

Something purple blurred from his hand and whizzed through the room. "Think fast!"

The Golduck's reaction time was immediate; it swung around and tail-smacked the purple object Kenta had thrown straight back at him. Kenta's hand snapped up and caught the projectile, and Hibiki saw that it was Zapdos's Master Ball.

"If this ball hadn't been occupied, I'd be the new owner of the world's strongest Golduck by now," Kenta called back into the room. "Consider this a taste of the future, if we let the present stay its course. It is not a threat, but a warning- you know the difference."

"As do you," Mewtwo's voice retorted, saturated with renewed fury. "Know your place, human. I have been polite to you, and I have held back on you several times already, but I don't have to. You are ant grubs compared to me. This IS a threat."

"I know," said Kenta sadly, looking at the Togetic and Ralts standing together at Golduck's feet. "But I still hope to see you again, so I will not say goodbye."

With that, they returned to Eusine's range rover.


	43. Chapter 43

Something about being in a psychically-charged room had made everyone fully awake and energized, even Eusine. As they began to descend down the mountain slope, Eusine broke the silence. "I can't believe I didn't see it. Mewtwo took me in as a guest. Twice. And I slept through the second time."

Nobody said anything.

Kenta finally heaved an enormous sigh and rubbed his head with a knuckle. "A deal's a deal, Eusine. Just drop us off at the nearest bus station, and you can get back to looking for Suicune."

"I'm not so sure I wanna do that now," mumbled Eusine from the driver's seat. "You heard how Mewtwo reacted when you threw that Master Ball at his buddy. If Suicune is around here, and I use mine within Mewtwo's territory, he'll probably combust my head. Or implode it upon my brain."

"You sure have a way of pissing people off," Hibiki added, trying a halfhearted joke. "I know you mean well, but . . . the guy above Mewtwo is God. I'm pretty sure he could even kick Arceus's ass."

"Believe me, I know," said Kenta, laughing weakly. "But it was necessary."

"By the way, am I the only one here who didn't know you were a Pokémon Master?" asked Eusine. "Marina? Hibiki?"

They nodded.

"Huh. Well, that explains the self-confidence. But one thing I'm wondering . . ." Eusine glanced back at Kenta. "It's no small feat to brave Victory Road, win first place in the Pokémon League Tournament, and then overcome the Elite Four and their Champion. Why didn't you take Lance's place on the throne? I'll bet it would've paid well, and you could have influenced the G.R.I.P. policies before they gained enough traction."

"Maybe, maybe not," muttered Kenta, resting his head back and putting an arm over his eyes. "If Karen was right, Lance has no say in the matter. But as for me and the other Masters, well . . . it's like this. When you defeat the Champion, you have the option to take his place, or let him keep it. Ever since Master Red withdrew from the official League, many of us have followed his example, myself included. You understand, we all begin the journey with visions of romanticized adventure dancing in our heads, right? It's the glory of the outdoors, and the joy of pokémon companionship that compels us."

"Uh-huh."

"Well, the Champion position is the opposite of that. The League officials made it clear to me: it's a ton of paperwork and schedules, and confinement to a single place for long periods of time. You aren't even allowed to use your original team anymore; you have to fight with lower-level replacements against first-time challengers. The first time I battled Lance, he wasn't fighting me at his full potential. I still wonder if I could beat him now, with him using his best pokémon.

"Part of the reason I respect Brendan so much is that he is a rightful Champion. When Master Steven lost to Master Wallace, I suspect it was deliberate. Steven is far stronger than Wallace, and probably held back on him. But Wallace's butt had barely touched the throne when Brendan came in and took him down. Wallace had no time to form a softer team; he used exactly who he'd used on Steven. Brendan won his title almost at the same time that Red did, and he has held his ground ever since."

Eusine hit a bump in the road, causing Hibiki's jaw to snap involuntarily, chomping down on his tongue. He whimpered, and Eusine lowered his head. "Sorry." He laughed apologetically. "But y'know what? Brendan's probably being accommodated for his efforts in a cushy penthouse, rather than traveling pothole-filled roads and enduring the many discomforts that we do."

"Probably. But I don't regret shirking those responsibilities I would've otherwise had," said Kenta with a smile. "Well- not much. Pokémon Masters enjoy the privilege of traveling pretty much wherever they want at a discount, for the rest of their lives. I took advantage of that for a while. And you wouldn't believe the amount of job opportunities you get when it comes to outdoor employment. When I joined Silhouette Military Police, they made me a Sergeant almost immediately."

"Yeah," Marina chimed in, "my mom always had an answer for the folks in our town who questioned the point of pokémon training. She said it was like joining the Girl Scouts, only better. It just looks good on a resume." She paused, then continued in a sadder voice. "But nowadays, more and more of the jobs you can get are strictly limited to Military Police."

"That can't be a coincidence," muttered Hibiki. "Our country's gearing up for war. But against who?"

"Enemy nations of Japan, no doubt," Kenta murmured darkly. "But the first war will be a civil war against us- the common pokémon trainers."

...

Not long after they had found the main road again, there was an unexpected delay. As the rover was passing through a town, Eusine alarmed everyone when he suddenly swerved into another lane, nearly hitting a truck.

"AAAH! What the hell, Eusine!" Hibiki cried, covering his head.

"Sorry! I don't know what happened!" Eusine apologized with a guilty look. "I just . . . all of a sudden, I feel so tired . . ."

"There's a parking lot to the right," Marina ordered. "You pull in there right now, mister!"

Eusine didn't protest, and Hibiki looked up to see the sign above the lot: "Mountain Shade Inn." Parking was spacious, and Eusine found a spot and shut off the engine.

"You okay, Eusine?" Kenta asked, looking at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Just tired," he murmured. "I drove all night."

A thought occurred to Hibiki. "Kenta, he only got to sleep for like, five minutes. I know Mewtwo's psychic presence got us all wide awake, but that's worn off by now."

Kenta looked sympathetically at Eusine. "Alright," he said, "we can make our own way from here. I'm grateful for your help, Eusine; get some rest now."

"Kenta," Marina called, opening the car door and looking out, "we're parked at an inn. Why don't we get him a room?"

"Well, uh . . ." Kenta scratched his head and smiled meekly. "Ever since my first attempt to steal the Snag Machine, I've stopped making public appearances. If anyone recognizes me-"

"Oh, c'mon, you're wearing a cloak and a wig, and we're out in the boonies. Who's going to recognize you?"

Kenta sighed. "Okay, YOU check him in. I'll get a map to the nearest bus station and meet you there."

Marina crossed her arms and gave him a defiant look.

"What?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" She huffed. "I want to use a room, okay? I haven't gotten a proper meal or a shower in over forty-eight hours. Normally I would manage, but there's an inn less than twenty steps away!"

"Are you serious?" Kenta gawked. "What kind of girl scout pokémon trainer are you?"

In the end, all four of them stood in the lobby, although Kenta hastily grabbed a newspaper off one of the couches and hid himself behind it. The receptionist gave the party an awkward look: Eusine looking dead on his feet, Marina caught in the middle of sniffing her armpit, Kenta holding the paper upside-down, and Hibiki giving a fake, over-exaggerated smile out of nervousness. Nobody needed to point out the elephant in the room: they looked strange.

"Checking out?" she asked with a slight note of skepticism.

"Uh, no," Marina coughed sheepishly. "Checking in. I know it's only nine in the morning, but . . . here. We're paying with cash. How much is a room?"

"The four of you are sharing a room?" the receptionist asked, again not bothering to hide the tone of dismay.

"Machi." The voice of an older man issued from further behind the counter. A thin, slightly-balding man with glasses appeared, wearing a suit with a shiny "Manager" badge on the left chest area. He glanced at Marina. "Welcome! However many rooms you want, they're all the same price- 9000 yen. Would you kindly excuse us a moment?"

Hibiki watched as the Manager beckoned Machi the Receptionist over, probably to chew her out for not being polite to potential customers. A moment later though, he was distracted by the conversation between Kenta and Marina.

"Heyyy, Kenta-sama, can you pretty please lend me 18000 yen?"

"What?!" Kenta, who now had the newspaper right-side-up, looked up at her incredulously. "You knowingly came in here without any money?"

"(Well I'm not going to make Eusine pay! He drove us!)"

"(He drove us because I _gave_ him a you-know-what to catch you-know-who! It wasn't an act of charity.)"

"It's fine, I got it," mumbled Eusine sleepily, reaching into his pocket. A second later, his back stiffened, and his eyes widened. Hibiki watched him fish around in his pocket, coming up only with his keys. "What the-? . . . Maybe I don't got it . . . where the hell is my wallet? Did it slip out back at the cabin?"

"You lost your wallet?" said Kenta, sounding half-sympathetic, half-exasperated. He put a hand over his face; something that Hibiki noticed he was doing a lot lately. "This is really happening right now. For god sakes . . ."

Machi the Receptionist returned to the counter, looking pale and much more serious. "So . . . how many rooms then, ma'am?" she asked Marina. The latter turned and gave Kenta a pleading look. He heaved a sigh.

Five minutes later, the brothers were sitting on a freshly-made hotel bed, while Eusine pulled the covers over himself, still fully-clothed. The hiss of the shower could be heard in the bathroom. The four of them had all ended up getting the same one room for 9000 yen, as Marina had insisted on staying, though Kenta was adamant about conserving what limited funds they still had. There was a knock on the door, and Machi entered, bearing a tray of four bottles of water.

"Here," she said, with a strange edge in her voice. "Mount Quena natural spring water. Complements of the inn."

"Uh . . . thanks?" Hibiki said, finding it strange that they were being given water out of nowhere. "Hey, uh, I'm not trying to be snobbish or anything, but . . . isn't this sort of thing normally done with wine?"

Eusine gave a tired laugh. "It's your first time in the area, I see," he said, lifting himself into upright sitting position and taking a bottle. "Remember what I told you on the drive in? Mount Quena spring water is famous for its vitamins and minerals. It's world-quality. I can barely keep my eyes open, but I'll have a drink before I drop off."

He proceeded to gulp down the entire bottle with relish, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Refreshing . . . but it tastes a bit funnier than usual. Well . . . good night." With that, Eusine's head promptly hit the pillow, and he was out like a light.

"Geez, dude," Hibiki said, staring as Eusine began to snore. Machi bowed and let herself out of the room with the empty tray.

"Good thing we got off the road when we did," said Kenta, mirroring Hibiki's sentiments. "Hey, Marina! How's the shower water taste?"

"It feels great!" she called in a muffled voice through the door. "Like my body's being recharged and energized!"

"No, taste. Drink it for a second."

"Huh? Uh . . ." There was a moment of just the noise of the shower. "It's also good! Like super water. I . . . hey, what is this questioning all of a sudden? Are you trying to turn my shower experience into one of those creepy phone calls where you ask what I'm wearing?"

"Of course not. That would require you to be wearing something."

"You're imagining what I look like in the shower right now, aren't you? You stop that this instant!" Marina cried.

"You said it, not me," Kenta murmured, unscrewing the cap of his water.

Hibiki grinned. "You're playing it pretty cool for a teenage dude with a naked girl in the other room."

"We teased each other a lot like that back in our early trainer days," Kenta replied, reaching for his newspaper. "But the truth is, I'm a little preoccupied with what I found in here."

"The paper you were reading upside-down?"

"Yeah, after I flipped it over. Look."

Hibiki glanced at the headline, taking a chug of the water. "'Master's Tournament to Commence on April 16' . . . that's less than a week from now."

He looked up at Kenta. "That's neat, I guess. But why are you showing me this?"

"Remember the plan I told you about, on the morning after you came to travel with me?" Kenta said quietly. "Remember how its late stages would involve a whole bunch of trainers battling Silhouette and the forces of G.R.I.P. to get back their pokémon?"

Hibiki nodded.

"Well, I may have just found my setting. It's a bit earlier than I would have liked, but then again, I've put this off for too long as it is." Kenta set his water aside, apparently too distracted now to drink it. "Here's what I got from the article. It sounds like the population is still angry about losing the epic pokémon battling that existed in the past. So to satiate the masses, it looks like our government's trying to prove that it's all about the trainer, not the pokémon. Everyone who's ever become a pokémon master has been invited to participate, to see who's the Master among Masters."

"So let me guess . . . you're planning on taking part." Hibiki yawned. Normally, this kind of news would excite him, but he was suddenly feeling drowsy. Perhaps he was so used to excitement that he'd become desensitized. "But how? You're . . . supposed to be dead."

"I think I'll be there. Whether or not I'll participate is something I'm still figuring out, but I'm forming a plan . . ." Kenta paused and looked at him critically. "Hey, bro? Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine, I just-" Hibiki attempted to shift his weight on the bed, but to his surprise, he found his muscles suddenly sluggish and slow. Before he could stop himself, he fell to the floor, spilling the rest of his water. "What is . . . this? My body . . . feels so heavy."

His consciousness was starting to fade, and he heard Kenta gasp as if in recognition of something. There was a shuffling noise, and then a sharp whisper from Kenta.

"Marina! Get out of the shower, but keep it running! Get your pokémon ready, and don't make any noise if possible!"

There was no reply, except for the smallest hint of the shower curtain rustling. Kenta's voice carried an edge of critical urgency to it that Marina must have heard, and knew better than to question. There was another noise of water pouring from behind, and then Kenta was speaking by Hibiki's ear.

"They drugged the water. We didn't notice because Eusine was already exhausted, but someone wants us all asleep and vulnerable. I don't know how long they'll wait before coming to retrieve us, but I'm going to play it like they got me too. Don't panic, Hibiki. You're not poisoned, and I won't let anything happen to you."


	44. Chapter 44

Hibiki could only gurgle weakly in reply. He had only taken a small drink from the bottle, but it was a fight to stay awake. He was vaguely aware of Kenta lying down somewhere near him, but his vision became so blurry that he could only clearly make out sounds. A minute passed, then two. Suddenly, there was a soft click at the door, and it gave a gentle creak as it swung open.

"Thank you, Machi," came the deep voice of what Hibiki could only imagine was a larger-than-average man. "You've done your country a great service today. Now please leave me to deal with the outlaws."

"You're just going to arrest them, right?" came the young woman's voice. She sounded frightened- no, borderline terrified.

"Of course," came the mystery man's voice. "But I will need five minutes alone, first. Please leave me to do my work. The suspects will be out of your hands in no time."

Machi said nothing else, but Hibiki heard her footsteps fade until they were gone. Then came the quiet-but-heavy footfalls of the man, closer and closer. They paused, and then the man spoke.

"Ah . . . not quite asleep yet, Officer Nyna?"

 _He opened his eyes?_ Hibiki thought, panicked. _What's he doing?_

The man's voice was very close now, but it was even more quiet than Kenta had been. "For the record, I would have loved to hear your story from your own mouth. And I hate having to do this to someone who's still conscious to feel it. But orders are orders, and I'm afraid I only have as much time as it takes your little girlfriend to finish her shower."

There was a metallic zipping noise, and the image of a wire came to Hibiki's mind. _Asphyxiation,_ he realized with ice-cold dread. _He's going to kill us!_

The next second, he heard a fleshy thud, and an exhale of surprise from the assassin. "Marina!" cried Kenta.

"Water Gun!"

The bathroom door was blown off its hinges by the force of the blast, as Feraligator's pressure hose attack buffeted the would-be killer. He slammed hard into the wall, causing it to crack and leave an imprint as he fell. Marina stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but a towel over her body, her face contorted in an expression of mixed fear and anger. In the midst of the action, Hibiki barely observed that he was seeing some things, and only hearing others.

Kenta wasted no time in hesitation. "Send Mismagius out into the hall!" he ordered. "We need a sentry to alert us to anyone else!"

Even as Marina reached for her ghost pokémon's ball, Kenta picked up her pokegear and clicked a few buttons.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Calling the local Officer Jenny. Her family honor is the only part of the police force I still trust. Quick, find where Eusine left his pokeball belt!"

"Uh . . . right. Wani-Wani, keep an eye on that man, and don't let him move a muscle!"

The Feraligator gave a deep-throated growl.

"Hello, Jenny?" Kenta said, using a hoarse voice of a person who had been drugged. "Help me. Someone poisoned the water I drank, and I hear him at the door! I don't know how long my pokémon can hold him off. I'm at the Mountain Shade Inn. Help me!"

Without waiting for a reply, Kenta hung up, and Hibiki heard him stomp over to where he supposed the assassin was lying.

"We have two minutes to talk. Who sent you?"

The man laughed weakly, half-coughing as he did. "You're a quick one to act. But you should know I can't divulge private client information."

"Why? Because it would be worse than the consequences of your failure?" Kenta's voice hardened. "You don't know what I'm ready to do to you for drugging my little brother."

"Perhaps not," said the man in a pained, yet calm voice. "But unless you're ready to kill me, I'll take my chances. And I don't think my death would look too good for your friend on the bed there, when the authorities arrive."

"Then how about I put you out of business?"

There were suddenly two screams: one of shock from Marina, and one of raw animal pain from the assassin. Still too weak to turn his head, Hibiki wondered in horror what Kenta had done to him. He didn't need to wonder long.

"I observed that you were right-handed while you were handling that choke wire," Kenta said, his voice cold and grim. "Well, you can never use your dominant hand for murder again. I'm letting you keep your fingers, but this thumb comes with me."

 _Oh God . . . he cut off that man's THUMB?!_

"You knew my name," Kenta continued. "Now I have your thumbprint. I'm going to find out who you are, and eventually, who hired you. Or you could tell me yourself. Who knows? Maybe that wasn't your dominant hand, and you're still holding out some hope that you can be a useful hitman in the future."

Hibiki finally managed to turn his head, through sheer force of will. He could see Marina and Feraligator side by side- Marina still wearing just a towel- looking down at the man on the carpet who was half-buried under the door. There was a dark pool of blood staining the carpet below his right hand, and Kenta was kneeling beside him, holding him by the collar with one hand. His other hand held a wicked-looking combat knife, which was stained red. Kenta's face was a mask of white-hot fury: anger the like of which he had never seen, and might never see again to such a degree.

To his renewed astonishment, the man laughed again, though there was no mirth in it. "I'm normally a pretty good judge of character," he said thickly, pain lacing his voice. "But I misread you, Officer. You didn't seem the type. Very well . . ."

A police siren could be heard in the distance. The man licked his lips. "My name is irrelevant, and I have no political motivation. I did this entirely for the money. As for my employers, well . . . unless your Feraligator destroyed it, they're listening in on this conversation through the device I'm wearing. Wanna see?"

The sirens were closer now. Hibiki saw Kenta's grip tighten on the assassin's collar. "No, I believe you. The EMPLOYERS, Lefty. Now."

The man coughed and swallowed. "I don't have much on them myself. I work on a need-to-know basis, and they paid me in coins through electronic transaction- never face to face. All I can give you are the instructions they gave me. They knew your name, that you weren't dead, and that they'd seen you last in Saffron City's Pokémon Fan Club. They wanted me to track you down and . . . neutralize you . . . and give detailed reports about my progress until it was done. I was to write to them on a random, abandoned message board they linked to me."

 _I can't believe it,_ Hibiki thought, horrified. _We've been marked for death since our second rally! Was someone posted there to look out for people like us?_

The police siren was very close now. Officer Jenny had to be only a block or two away. The assassin's speech was rushed. "They paid me generously- two hundred thousand yen per day- but you made me work for it. You always traveled so far and so fast on that Salamence of yours that it took a week for me to learn your pattern, and triangulate where you always went back to. I found your little base just two days ago, only to learn from one of my other contacts that you were staying at the Mahogany Rocket Hideout."

The siren was right outside the building. Hibiki heard the faint slam of the police car's door, as Officer Jenny had doubtless climbed out.

"By the time I got there, you were gone again. My contact could only tell me that you had left in someone's Range Rover. Still, that made it easier, because my employers could now help me track your progress every time you went through a town with on-duty police officers." The assassin smiled. "Kinda gives you an idea about the sort of powerful people you've pissed off, doesn't it?"

"Finish up," Kenta said flatly.

"Alright, so to wrap it up, the manager of this fine establishment recognized your face. Ever since you broke into Krane Laboratories, there's been a sketch artist depiction of you going around to . . . well . . . places like this. Hotels. Restaurants. Some gas stations. I was in the area when I received the alert, and, well . . ." The assassin shrugged. "Let's just say I won't be getting my bonus pay."

Mismagius burst through the wall with a ghostly wail. Kenta made an impatient noise through his teeth, then let go of the assassin, hurrying instead to Hibiki's side. "We need to go. Marina, did you find Eusine's pokeball belt?"

"Uh- yes!" She held it up, revealing two pokeballs in miniature form.

"Send out the first one." Hibiki felt himself being hauled up, and a second later, he was looking over the back of Kenta's shoulder. The room flashed for a moment with the light of a pokeball opening, and another ghost pokémon appeared, colored dark violet: a Haunter.

"Defend your master if this man tries to hurt him," Kenta ordered, apparently to the pokémon. He sprang to the window and lurched it open. "C'mon, Marina. We have to jump!"

Judging by Marina's facial expression, Hibiki guessed that she would have protested at any other time. But in this moment, Kenta had an air of authority about him of one who had long since earned eight gym badges: one who could make any pokémon obey his commands at will. Without another word, the three of them dropped from the tenth floor up, and Bolt's enormous blue body materialized beneath them.

"Hold on!" shouted Kenta, wrapping one arm around Hibiki and grasping the Salamence's scales with the other. There was a sudden sound of flapping in the wind, and Marina screamed, but Bolt shot skyward, spiriting them off into the clouds.


	45. Chapter 45

After they were well away from human settlements, Hibiki heard Marina's voice come from behind himself and Kenta. It was shaking badly.

"P-p-please take us down! It's freezing up h-here!"

Kenta glanced over the side, at the green expanse of pine trees below. "All right. Bolt, we should be safe here."

Once they had touched down, Marina spoke again, with a little less shaking in her voice.

"Don't t-turn around, Kenta."

"I wasn't planning on it," he muttered, and Hibiki felt his arm ease off his chest. "Eusine's going to hate us for this, but I know he can take care of himself."

"No, I mean . . ." Marina's voice lowered shyly. "Don't look at me. I had to grab on to you in midair, and my towel got blown off."

Immediately, Hibiki felt Kenta's arm tense on his chest again, causing him to grunt painfully.

"Oh. Sorry." Hibiki felt something move at his back, and there was a ruffling noise. "Here's my cloak. It's the best I can do for the moment."

"It's warm," she sighed. "Thanks."

Kenta patted Bolt's head, then Hibiki felt himself lifted and set on his feet. He found himself eye-to-eye with his brother. "How is it now?" he asked, concerned. "Can you stand on your own?"

Hibiki felt like he had woken up standing instead of lying down, but his muscles grudgingly responded to his nerves. He shifted his weight from side to side. "Yeah. Thanks, bro."

He and Kenta turned to Marina, who was hugging Kenta's brown traveler cloak tightly to her body. Her blue hair, which was normally tied in pigtails, hung loosely and was sticking out all over the place. _That must have sucked,_ thought Hibiki, _flying a hundred feet high in mid-March weather, totally nude. Must be similar to taking an ice bath._

A long silence dragged out. And dragged. And dragged. The three of them just stood together in the forest clearing, looking at each other while a swirl of thoughts caught up with them from the previous events. In a a lame attempt to break the ice, Hibiki finally coughed and spoke up.

"Y'know . . . someday we'll be able to look back on this and laugh."

Kenta turned and faced him. His face was pale as a sheet, and possibly not just because he had just endured some icy wind. "I cut a person's thumb off," he said in a distant voice. "It's still in my pocket. What kind of a sick animal does something like that?"

"Kenta . . . come on. He was going to kill us."

"He was subdued," Kenta replied, now averting his eyes.

"He might have come after us again," Hibiki argued back. "He still might, if his employers keep him out of jail. You saw what that guy was like, smiling and laughing even after you cut him. He was freaking crazy."

A dry sob issued from Marina's direction, and the brothers looked up at her. "This is all my fault," she whimpered, covering her face. "I was the one who wanted to stop at an inn, while you wanted to keep going-"

"Marina, no. Don't talk like that." Kenta threw his arms around her, and held her in a tight embrace. "You weren't used to running from this kind of danger. Nobody should have to be."

Marina let Kenta hold her for a while, until he finally let go and stepped back. Hibiki got the feeling that she wanted to hug him back, but couldn't, since it would cause the cloak to open up.

"Well," he said, "let's assess the situation. I managed to hold on to all our stuff, but Marina left without so much as the clothes on her back. Officer Jenny's going to take one look at the water on the walls, and the busted-up room, and Marina's PDA, and she'll have a better idea of what happened than Eusine. I wonder if Lefty will give himself up, or find a way to worm out of it."

Kenta frowned. "I'd hate to be Eusine. He's going to wake up very confused, and whether he tells the truth or makes up a story, nobody's likely to believe him. He'll be lucky if they don't seize his car and confiscate his Master Ball." Kenta began pacing back and forth. "If- or when- they scan for DNA, they'll discover who all was there. It'll become public knowledge that the three of us are missing."

"Mom and Dad are going to find out," murmured Hibiki, the thought coming to him suddenly and painfully. "They've probably been worried sick for the past couple of weeks, but what would they say if they knew someone had been hired to kill us?"

At that, Kenta spun quickly on his heels and marched straight up to Marina. "I can't let you stay with us anymore," he said. "Not while the government is contracting killers to chase us. If I'd known earlier-"

"No!" Marina cried, stomping her bare foot on the ground. Her eyes had refilled with tears, but her voice was steady. "I want to stay with you!"

"And do what?" he challenged. "Do you have a plan? Because none of mine involve you!"

"Maybe not, but I can't just sit on the sidelines while you go around risking your life! What if I never see you again after today? What if . . ."

She walked straight up to Kenta, who suddenly stood stock-still, paralyzed. "What if I never get the chance to tell you-?"

And then Marina leaned in and kissed him. Hibiki stared at the two of them, overwhelmed at what he was seeing, and at the same time, like a peeping Tom violating a private moment. Kenta was still frozen for a second or two more, but then he returned the kiss, and the two of them held each other.

"That was sudden," Kenta mumbled, face bright red.

"I was waiting for the right time," Marina whispered, still holding him. "And after the first time you almost died, I hated myself for waiting too long. You were always too busy, even when I found you again!"

Hibiki wondered if he should mention the fact that Marina's cloak was now open at the front. He was standing behind, but from how she was holding Kenta, he knew that nothing was covering Marina's bosom as she clove to his brother. He decided not to say anything. No need to make it more awkward.

"I love you too," Kenta uttered softly, as he and Marina touched foreheads. "I think we've always known. And if I ever make it out of this alive, I'll come for you. But . . . this doesn't change my mind. If anything, I'm even more determined that you stay safe now."

"I figured you'd say that," Marina sighed, pulling back from him and covering herself again. "But at least I got to say what I've wanted to for three years now."

Hibiki coughed. Kenta and Marina turned and gave him a startled look, both faces turning crimson. "Listen, uh . . . even if we are separating, we can't just leave Marina out in the woods with nothing but a mantle and a couple of pokémon. Who do you know that we can trust to let her lie low for a few weeks at their house?"

The three of them thought for a moment.

"I got it!" said Kenta, perking up. "Juni'chi!"

"No WAY," Marina said, giving him a look of sudden disgust. "You know how that idiot's mind works. The second I ask to live at his place, he'll get all the wrong ideas."

"Yeah, but . . . who else do we really know? Unless . . ." Kenta paused, then turned his head slowly to look at Hibiki. A crafty smile crept across his face. "Wait a minute. Hey, Hibiki . . . what about that girl next door with the Marill, the one you had that crush on? What was her name-"

"Kotone! And I don't have a crush on her! Think of someone else!"

...

The door swung open after three knocks, revealing a fourteen-year-old girl with a white hat. "Hibiki!" she cried, her face brightening in happy recognition. "Where have you been?! Your parents said you'd gone to stay with other relatives, but I didn't think it would be this long. You should have told me!"

Hibiki stood outside her door, the cool winds of New Bark Town doing nothing to ease the burning of his scarlet cheeks. Kenta had prepped him with some lines of dialogue ahead of time, but they were pushed clean out of his head at the sight of her. After nearly half a year of bitterness and mourning, he had nearly forgotten about the girl across the way that he . . . maybe, kinda, sorta, possibly thought was cute.

 _Look at that_ , he thought dreamily, _she's added an adorable little red ribbon onto her hat since I saw her last._

 _No! Not a helpful thought right now! You have a mission, so talk, stupid!_

"H-h-h-hi, Kotone," he stuttered.

 _Oh, bravo. How come Kenta always knows what to say?_

"So . . ." Kotone swayed her shoulders and kicked her foot, looking at him with a small smile. "What did you come to see me for?"

 _What did I-? . . . Wait a second, did she say that I was supposed to be visiting relatives? That's right- this fits one of the scenarios Kenta went over with me!_

"Oh, I, uh . . . hey, cousin! Come over here!" Hibiki turned and waved towards the bushes further out at the edge of town. Marina came out slowly and uncertainly, looking around. The streets were empty, and it was starting to get dark out. Clasping her cloak tightly, she sauntered up to Hibiki's side, doing her best to smile casually.

"This is my, uh, cousin. Cousin, this is my fr-f-friend, Kotone."

Kotone smiled. "Hello, Hibiki's Cousin."

"Hi," Marina grinned, although it looked a bit forced. "Nice pigtails."

"Thanks!"

Hibiki cleared his throat, willing himself to be confident. "So you see, my cousin's now staying with me, and . . . and, uh, she didn't bring any spare clothes. And, y'know, I'm a guy, so it's not like I can lend her my clothes- aaah!"

He covered his face suddenly, overcome by the heat in his cheeks, and the pounding of his heart, and the many chastisements his brain was screaming at him. "I can't do this! I'm sorry, but I just can't!"

Marina and Kotone stared at him, which didn't help things, and Hibiki wondered what Kenta was thinking as he watched him from further off- which REALLY didn't help things. Then, out of nowhere, Kotone clapped her hands together.

"Ahhh . . . ha! I know what this is!" she said cheerily, holding up a finger. "You're helping her run away, aren't you?"

Hibiki blinked. "Huh?"

Marina laughed a genuine nervous laugh. "Sorry about this. I told him that I just had to get away, but we didn't really think about it- we just did it. But it's not like I can crash at his house, because his parents would find out and send me back."

"Ugh, I know what you mean," Kotone said emphatically, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes I just want to get _away._ That's what the pokémon trainer journey was supposed to be about, until they changed the age limit." Kotone opened the door wider and beckoned Marina to come in. "Here, get inside before anyone's parents see you. I'll find you a nice spot, and we can talk about all kinds of stuff!"

She turned to Hibiki for a moment. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

The door closed. Up from the bushes behind him popped Kenta, like a jack-in-the-box. "Well," he said, brushing leaves out of his hair, "that worked out nicely. Few of the things we do go exactly according to plan, but so far, this has gone almost too well."

"Don't freaking jinx it," Hibiki muttered through his teeth.

"Okay, she said she'd be back in a moment. When she comes, you need to make sure she's thoroughly convinced that Marina's family. Then get away gracefully! Don't get caught up in any conversa- oh, crap!"

He ducked down, and Hibiki turned back around to see Kotone standing back in the door. "What was that?" she asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Uh . . . uh- just a Sentret." Hibiki grinned outwardly, while inwardly cursing himself for telling Kotone so many lies all at once. "So, uh . . . thanks for taking Marina in. Really! I know I should have given you notice ahead of time, but, uh . . ."

He trailed off, looking away. He couldn't maintain eye contact.

"Hibiki, it's okay. I'm honestly happy to help, definitely for you, anyway." Kotone leaned her face in closer to his, so that where he'd looked away, she now placed herself. "Y'know . . . your face looks a little different since we last met. Have you gotten taller?"

"M-maybe, I don't know," Hibiki gulped. "I see you're growing your hair out longer."

"I did," she said, looking pleased that he had noticed. "Time's passing quickly, isn't it? But it feels so slow around here." Now it was her turn to look away. "This town is so small, and all the kids our age that used to be here are gone. It's just me and Marill now. I . . ." She paused. "I know it's not my place to say this, but . . . I know that you must be lonely with Kenta gone. If . . . if you ever need someone to talk to, I'll be here."

Hibiki was deeply touched. In that moment, he wished with all his might that the fight against G.R.I.P. was just over already, and that he could freely talk to Kotone and spend time getting to know her better.

"I'd like that," he said softly. "I can't ask you now, but . . . let's take a walk sometime."

Kotone nodded, her face glowing.

"Thank you again for taking care of Marina," Hibiki added, snapping back to reality. "I gotta go before someone sees me. Good night!"

He bowed quickly and jogged off toward Route 29, while Kotone stood in the doorway, waving to him. Hibiki didn't stop until he was certain she had gone inside, then he waited until Kenta appeared out of the twilight gloom around the corner of the last house. He was holding a small duffle bag.

"Nice job," he said, beaming proudly at Hibiki. "You really did well back there."

Hibiki lowered his head in shame. "I hate that we're just using her," he muttered.

"I know. I hate it too." Kenta placed a hand on his shoulder, his face pinched and troubled. "I promise that we won't be doing this for much longer, and if all ends well, I'll come back and come clean with everyone myself. You shouldn't have to take any heat for this."

Hibiki nodded, then looked around. "Well . . . it's just the two of us again. I ran out here, but I actually have no idea where we're supposed to be going."

"That's okay. I have it figured out." Kenta looked northward. "We can't go back to Earl's Pokémon Academy, though. Ready for a little camping out?"


	46. Chapter 46

They set up for the night on the slope between New Bark and Blackthorn, outside one of the mouths of Johto's Dark Cave. Hibiki caught fish in a nearby lake, while Kenta prepared a cooking fire. He returned with a couple of impressive-sized trout, to see Kenta gazing up in the distant east. Turning to see where he was looking, Hibiki could just make out the faintest glow on the summit of Mount Silver.

"Bolt's just had his dinner," Kenta said, noticing him. "And it looks like you've got ours! All right, those look amazing!"

"Thanks. I think I saw a Dratini in there," Hibiki said.

"You probably did. A friend of mine once told me he'd caught his in there. Who was it now . . . Matt Mac-something. Irish name."

As Kenta took the fish, Hibiki looked back up at the tiny light on Mt. Silver. "Is someone else camping out, too?" he asked. "From way up there?"

"Yep. Even though you'd have to be one hell of a reclusive nut to do something like that," Kenta replied. "I told him, too, but he wasn't too keen on listening."

"Him? 'Him' who?"

"The guy we're meeting tomorrow," Kenta said, putting the fish-sticks over the fire. "Turns out it was pretty convenient that we could drop Marina off so close to where we were going. The last journey to the mountain for a powerful ally didn't go so well, but I'm determined to make it work this time."

A cold wind blew through the area. Hibiki still had his traveler's cloak, but Kenta shivered, and he reached into his duffle bag. "Brrr . . . now's the perfect time for this thing." He pulled out a warm-looking hoodie, mostly red in color, but with white pockets. Hibiki recognized it instantly.

"Hey, isn't that-?"

"My old trainer garb. I couldn't resist sneaking into our house while we were in our hometown." He pulled it over his head and sighed with relish, as if caught up in the nostalgia of old times. "Hibiki, I haven't been entirely honest, even with myself. Remember how, in Eusine's car, I told you that I had no regrets about declining the Champion spot?"

Hibiki nodded.

"The truth is, I never stop feeling guilty when I look back on it." Kenta's eyes narrowed. "If I had replaced Lance, I might have had more influence when the Restrictive policies were still in the making. I'm not saying that people like Lance and Brendan didn't resist G.R.I.P. . . . but that might have been my burden, and I ran from it."

Kenta pulled the trademark white beanie off his head and looked at it. "Brendan is a worthy Champion that people still look up to, and I've been trying to right G.R.I.P.'s wrongs in his name ever since. But I can't go riding his coattails anymore." He put the headgear into the duffle bag, and pulled something else out. In the light of the fire, Hibiki noticed the flash of black and gold. Kenta pulled the cap over his head, and twisted it around backwards, causing some of his hair to stick out in front.

"It's time to make changes in my own name."

...

The morning sun upon Mount Silver reflected off the ever-present snow on the peak, bathing its surroundings in a dazzling white glow. The scene unfolded before Hibiki's eyes like an old legend reborn. Standing in the snow were two figures, both with their hands in their pockets, both with their heads bowed, but with eyes locked upon each other. The wind blew for a moment, and then was still. The younger man spoke.

"Hello, Red."

"Hello, Gold."

 _Gold,_ thought Hibiki, _I can't remember the last time anyone used Kenta's Master title._

Kenta's eyes widened, and he smiled. "This is new! What happened to that vow-of-silence thing you pulled on me the last time we were up here?"

"Last time, we had nothing to discuss," the older trainer- Red- said simply.

"And how do you figure this time is different?" asked Kenta. "Do you keep a radio up here?"

"That, and the man who brought it," Red replied. "You aren't my first visitor, you know."

"Well, not in three years, anyway," Kenta shrugged. He gave Red a sudden shrewd look. "I've never blabbed to anyone that you're up here, except last night to my brother. Who found you?"

Red looked away and put a hand on his hip. "Can I trust you, Gold?"

"Trust me?" A troubled expression came over Kenta's face. "Where's this coming from? Why wouldn't you trust me?"

"For one, because you're supposed to be dead."

Kenta groaned. "Why wasn't that the first thing out of your mouth? Look, it's cold out here, and I haven't even gotten to introduce my brother to you. Let me hurry up and put myself in your trust-debt so that we can go to wherever you're holed up." He turned and looked at Hibiki. "Show him the Master Ball, Hibiki."

A bit nervously, Hibiki drew the ball from his pokémon belt that now contained Steven Stone's Metagross. Red straightened and stared, then looked back at Kenta, who had drawn Zapdos's ball. Wonder shone in his eyes.

"A Master Ball-? No- TWO Master Balls?"

"Try ninety-two," said Kenta solemnly. "I had as many produced in short-term as possible. And if you tell anyone that, they'll probably send a whole legion of hitmen to kill me again. Okay? I've spilled my guts, so now it's your turn."

Red gritted his teeth and clenched a fist. "How am I supposed to just talk after this? Gold, you . . . what have you been doing?"

"He's been posing as Brendan Birch," said Hibiki. "Did you pick up on any of that on the radio?" He could have laughed at the new bewilderment that crept over Red's features. Upon first impression, this seemed like the kind of solemn, strong-and-silent type of guy that was never shaken by anything. Yet there he was with his mouth hanging open like his jaw was disconnected.

"Red. Seriously." Kenta spoke up again. "It's freezing up here. Let's get out of the open air."


	47. Chapter 47

Red's base camp was a high-altitude cave, probably burrowed out long ago by the region's native Tyranitar. As they walked toward the mouth of the cavern, a familiar roar echoed inside, and Kenta's face lit up in recognition.

"Dragonite! You made it!"

Out flew the bipedal orange dragon, tackling Kenta and giving him a hug in greeting. Red and Hibiki watched with bemused expressions.

"I recognized your team powerhouse," said Red, laughing gently. "And I took it as a sign that I should expect someone else. I've been keeping vigilance ever since."

"Even though you thought I was dead?" said Kenta, managing to free himself from his Dragonite's clutches. "Master Red, the superstitious one. How about that."

"You guys are weird," Hibiki muttered. "This is supposed to be your first real conversation, and yet you act like you've known each other your whole lives."

"It's not quite the first," said Kenta, as they walked further into the tunnel. "It's just that Red gets all quiet before a battle."

Red eyed Hibiki with a searching gaze, finally paying some real attention to him. "So, this is the little Gold. You look just like him, but smaller."

Hibiki felt indignation at the statement. "Hey, why are you comparing me to Kenta? I'm my own person, and I'll have you know it's a perfectly proper height for someone my age!"

"No it isn't!" laughed Kenta. "You're a runt, dude! You just don't notice because all you have to compare to is Kotone."

In spite of the cold, Hibiki felt his face growing hot. "You guys aren't so great," he grumbled, readjusting his backpack.

"Sorry," said Red. "But the resemblance is hard to ignore. If it makes you feel any better, I've had a couple of people mistake me for some other guy with a Pikachu."

"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask about that," said Kenta, pulling back so that he was walking alongside Red, "where is your Pikachu? That thing's always hanging around you, or riding your shoulder."

Red gave Kenta a glare. "He's not a thing. And he's helping Bill with the Signal Disruptor."

"The . . . what now?"

"Better to see it for yourself. Hey, Bill!"

They had emerged from the cave tunnel into a wide and spacious rock chamber, with light and warmth emitting from a single creature near the center. Upon closer inspection, Hibiki recognized the orange winged pokémon to be none other than Charizard: the most coveted of the starter pokémon, until Brendan had accidentally made his into a famous meme.

A brunette, somewhat frizzy-haired man with glasses rose from his kneeling position on his floor, and Kenta's eyes widened in recognition. He gave a happy shout. "Bill! Hey man, what are you doing up here?"

 _Everyone knows each other but me_ , Hibiki thought with a grumble, as Bill approached, smiling. "Kenta! Well, this is the last thing I expected. Here we thought you had died, and then your Dragonite just shows up out of nowhere, and then . . ." He shook his head. "There's too much I want to say all at once. How did you find him, Red?"

"Find him? Hardly . . . he just invited himself up here."

A thought of recognition suddenly occurred to Hibiki. "Wait a second, Kenta!" he remarked. "Isn't this THE Bill, the guy who invented the pokémon storage system?!"

"Yep. And the same guy who gave me my Eevee."

"Are you serious? Did you know who he was when you met him?"

Bill laughed. "It seems everyone here has a reputation. It's nice to meet you, er . . ."

"Hibiki Nyna. It's an honor, sir!"

"Pleasure." Bill shook his hand, looking curiously at him. "Nyna . . . so you must be a brother of Kenta's." His smile returned, and he leaned in to whisper something. "You're welcome to call me Bill, but for the record, it's an alias after Bill Gates. I have a true name which I will not utter here, just like Red and Gold."

Hibiki stepped back, surprised. "You're hiding your name? Why the secrecy?"

"Simple foresight, really. Just in case a day like this were to come." Bill's expression darkened. "And it's a good thing I did. After G.R.I.P. usurped control over my storage system, they attempted to come for me. I managed to escape here, but barely. If Red hadn't already been on Mt. Silver, I may not have survived."

"You speak vaguely," said Kenta, who was now listening in. "So you're a wanted refugee from our government too?"

"How I escaped is irrelevant," Bill said shortly. "What matters is that G.R.I.P. wanted my computer knowledge to hasten their conquest over all the independent pokémon trainers of Japan. They discovered how to limit the standard pokémon team size from six to two, based on the files they managed to recover from my house computers. This was at least five months ago, though . . . by now, I'm sure they could relieve all people of their pokémon, and more."

"More?" repeated Kenta, with the chill of fear in his voice.

"Most likely. Don't you know? Whenever a trainer used to capture a seventh pokémon using official pokeballs, my storage system would warp that ball to its pre-designated holding space. Imagine how it might be, then, if a powerful pokémon could be teleported to anywhere at once, instantaneously? And let's say it's sent there to attack a criminal . . . or destroy the stronghold of an enemy nation . . . or to beat down a civil disobedience rally."

Hibiki's heart raced as he heard the words. He had almost forgotten to breathe.

"I've been saying such things to the pokémon fan clubs I've visited," said Kenta, his body tense all over. "But I never imagined it could go that far."

"If it is possible in theory, it is inevitable in time," Bill replied. Suddenly, a smile crept over his face. "Unless, of course, it is rendered neutral by a counter-measure."

Bill pointed with a finger, and all heads turned toward a metallic contraption lying on the stone ground. To Hibiki's eyes, it was little more than a tangle of wires, with a mess of antennas poking out at the top. Two wires led away from the machine, to a pokémon that Hibiki had failed to notice up until now. It was a small, mouselike creature that had a plump yellow body, red cheeks, and black stripes down its back. _A Pikachu,_ he thought. _No . . . THE Pikachu. This has to be Red's signature pokémon, if not Charizard . . ._

Red followed Hibiki's gaze. "Yes, Pikachu powers this machine," he said, perceiving his thoughts. "Bill's Signal Disruptor is already capable of stopping any pokeball teleport within the entire area of Mt. Silver." He frowned. "The problem is, we can't seem to increase its range as it is. Bill says we can fix that by making it as big as we want, so that it becomes too heavy to carry, but that would require a lot of risky trips to salvage the necessary parts. More than I've already done, that is."

Hibiki saw Kenta's face brighten, and he could almost imagine the light bulb turning on over his head. "Maybe you don't have to. Perhaps it's big enough already," he said.

Red and Bill looked at him curiously. Hibiki didn't even need to guess what was going through Kenta's mind. There it was again- that obsessed, mildly-crazed look he got when he was forming a plan.

"Red, have you heard about that Master's Tournament that's coming up on the radio?"

The other Master gave him an inquiring stare. "Yes. What are you getting at, Gold?"

Kenta pointed at the contraption on the ground. "I can't help but wonder why two such upstanding people as yourselves are building a Signal Disruptor in direct defiance of our peaceful and honest government."

Red glowered at him. "Are you testing me? Look there- and there!" He pointed at Pikachu, and then at his Charizard, who stood atop a long stalagmite. "Those are the only pokémon I have left. Bill came too late to stop me from losing Blastoise, Venusaur, Snorlax, and Espeon. The only reason they didn't take Pikachu and Charizard too, was that they were out of their balls with me at the time. Pikachu hates pokeballs, and we needed Charizard's flame for warmth and light. I would have been screwed if they'd taken him."

Kenta nodded. "Good. Just confirming why our feelings on G.R.I.P. are mutual."

"We're doing our part," said Red darkly. "I'm sure many trainers- the good ones, at least- are actively planning as well. Now, get back to what you were saying before."

Kenta crossed his arms, looking Red in the eyes. "Yes, so, the Master's Tournament . . . how do you feel about taking part as a competitor?"

Red froze, still eye-to-eye with Kenta. "You know my immediate response would normally be no. But it seems to me that you have ulterior motives behind that request. What are you planning, Gold?"

Kenta glanced at Hibiki and smiled. "Planning. Exactly. It's time we let you and Bill in on the plan."


	48. Chapter 48

Another day had dawned at the Kuchinawa residence when Curtis's phone rang. He had already been jostled awake by the noise of old Kurt's hammer, but he had also resolved in his mind to sleep through it. So much for that plan. He groped for the phone, a hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn.

"Ugh . . . Kuchinawa residence, this is Curtis."

"Hey. It's me."

All drowsiness instantly left his limbs at the sound of Kenta's voice. Curtis sat up straight, gripping the phone tightly. "Whoa! You're up early. Is everything still okay?"

"About as good as circumstances allow for," said Kenta, with an edge to his voice. "How are you?"

"Fine. Why?"

"Good, things sound normal with you." Kenta uttered a sigh of relief over the phone. "My mind's been so preoccupied that I've forgotten to check in with you recently. So nobody has been over to seize Kurt since I got him out of jail?"

Curtis glanced out into the hallway outside his room, where he could see old Kurt's shadow on the wall, the hammer still swinging up and down. "No. You know Azalea Town- we're as backwoods and out-of-the-way as it goes. I think the local police know about Kurt's Apricorn balls, but they're just choosing to look the other way. You could say Azalea is the Texas of Japan."

Kenta laughed from his end, and there was a joyful note to it. "I think I'd appreciate that reference more if I lived in America like you did. But you comfort me. If you were suddenly to be raided and arrested, well . . . I'd take it personally."

"Don't start that again," chided Curtis. "We knew what we were in for, and even if we get taken away now, our main task is done."

"That could still happen, even with the absence of the Master Balls," Kenta said urgently. "I called because the storm's about to hit. A powerful friend of mine signed up for the upcoming Master's Tournament, and that's where I'll be executing the final phase of my plan. You only have a couple of days to get back to America where it's safe."

At this, Curtis leaped out of bed and glared at his phone, pointing a finger at it. "Is that all you have to say? Here I thought you were about to let me in on the main event, and then you tell us to flee. I've got news for you, buster! Me 'n grandpa haven't been slaving away at making balls this whole time, just to miss out on the fruits of our labor!"

There was silence over the phone on Kenta's end for a few seconds. Gradually, he spoke again.

"Damn, dude. I never knew you had so much spirit."

"Yeah you did," said Curtis, still peeved, but also proud now. "That's why you keep urging me to work for Silhouette."

"True enough," Kenta said, laughing gently. "But they're no longer the military police we once looked up to. You need to understand that when they see a whole army of trainers throwing Apricorn Balls at them, they'll know it was you guys who made them. And if we fail, we're all probably going to be targeted for death together."

"We must all hang together, or we will hang separately," replied Curtis stubbornly. "I won't allow this revolution to be half-assed."

" . . . You really wanna help, huh?"

"Yeah!" Curtis's voice lowered. "To tell the truth . . . I'm rather ashamed. I wanted to do something about the G.R.I.P. situation long before this, but I never had the heart until you came and spoke to me. It kills me to think I might have lain down and just taken it."

Kenta was silent for a few more seconds. "Alright then," he said, as if coming out of deep thought, "here's what you can do. I'm sure that, by now, you've met more than your fill of pokémon trainers."

"Heh. I've probably seen half of Johto . . . okay, I'm exaggerating, but not much."

"Good. Get the word out to them." Kenta's voice was firm. "Tell them to assemble at the Indigo League Headquarters for the April 16 tournament, with or without tickets for seats. I was gonna do it myself, but my face is too recognizable now, and there's a target on my forehead. Hibiki and I will lay low from now until the moment is right."

Curtis nodded, even though Kenta wouldn't see it through the phone. "Grandpa will be annoyed when I'm not around to help, but he'll understand. Anything else?"

Kenta gave a snort of someone who was both impressed and skeptical. " _'Anything else'_? You're gonna have your hands plenty full. Hey, I gotta go."

"Okay. Like I said before, the rest of the Master Balls are waiting for you in . . . well, where you told us to leave them. Before you hang up, I was just wondering. How exactly do you plan on getting a hundred Master Balls past Indigo League security? I know you have dragons, but one Ice Beam will end either of them."

"I'll have to get back to you on that," replied Kenta. "Good luck, Curtis."

"Thanks. You too."

...

As Kenta closed his phone, Hibiki turned away from the shelf of pokémon merchandise he'd been staring at. They were back in Mahogany Town, in the small shop just above the Rocket ninja hideout. Hibiki had been somewhat reluctant to return to this place, considering their would-be assassin had at least one contact in the midst of the other criminals. Kenta, however, had told him it was desperately necessary for them to check and see if any outlaw teams had been successful in capturing a legendary pokémon. Once the call to Curtis was made, they would go directly under into the base- in and out. Kenta gave the store clerk a nod, and he returned it, picked up a radio, and muttered into it.

"I missed these parts of the plan," said Hibiki, as a floor panel by a shelf shifted over. "Where exactly are the Master Balls? And how will we move them safely?"

"I'll tell you when we're out of sound range," whispered Kenta, as the white-haired head of Basho poked out from under the floor. "As for your second question, I'm hoping to resolve that in the next few minutes."

"What are you waiting for?" hissed the Rocket Executive from the floor. "Get down here, you idiots, before someone comes in the shop!"

As soon as they were safely below ground, Basho stood cross-armed in front of Kenta, looking him up and down. Hibiki noticed that he eyed the G/S cap with particular distaste. "I liked your Brendan disguise better," the Rocket murmured. "So . . . I take it you didn't come to remind me of the bad old times."

"No," said Kenta, and in a similarly irate tone, filled Basho in about the Tournament. Basho's cold gaze hardened as he finished.

"Imbecile," he snapped, "there's no way we'll have enough legendary pokémon in time to make it. Did you think hunting them would be a simple matter of throwing a Master Ball and arriving back in time for tea?"

"Maybe not for you."

All heads turned to see another man coming down the hallway of Persian statues to meet them. He was dressed predominantly in a white lab coat, and Hibiki recalled seeing him briefly during their first meeting down here, though he couldn't recall his name.

"But that's the difference between you and me, 006," he said, placing a hand under his chin as if thinking. "You never managed to secure your quarry in a pokeball. I did." He withdrew something from his pocket and held it up: the purple-and-white Master Ball that Kenta had given him just a couple of days ago.

Basho's face twisted in anger. "I thought I told you not to show that to anyone. Or have I been talking to myself for the last hour?"

"I am your ally by necessity. But never mistake me for your subordinate." The labcoat-man spoke in a neutral voice, giving Basho a sidelong glance. "This pokémon is in my keeping now, and I will reveal it to whomever I deem fit."

"Uh . . ." Hibiki spoke up, hoping to break the tension between the two of them. "Sorry, but who are you again?"

The labcoat-man looked at him keenly. "You're . . . ah, yes, the younger brother. I am Ein."

"Former member of the first Cipher," Kenta added.

"Indeed," said Ein, and Hibiki noticed a flash of an injured look cross his expression. "And former tamer of the legendary Raikou."

Hibiki glanced quickly back at Basho, whose face was livid. "Oh . . . so that's what he meant about securing his quarry."

"I don't have to stay here and listen to this!" Basho snarled, turning on his heel and storming away down the hall. "You're no different, Ein! You lost Raikou too!"

They watched him go until he was gone, and then Ein heaved a sigh of relief. "I figured we would get nowhere with him around, which is why I put up that facade," he said wearily. "Kenta . . . or should I say, Master Gold. I didn't find out until later that you were the one who thwarted Basho's capture of Raikou three years back. It would seem that Basho still holds you in contempt for that."

"The feeling's mutual," said Kenta darkly. "He kidnapped Marina and tried to kill me."

Ein shook his head. "That's a shame. I've long since made up with Wes." He looked at Kenta with sharp eyes. "Strange circumstances bring us together- the young man who freed Raikou, and the man who went on to catch him all over again. I don't suppose you grudge me for it, do you? After all the hard work and risk you went through?"

Kenta raised an eyebrow, looking at Ein with mild astonishment. "What is this? Are you asking me to judge you?"

"No. I have already been judged." Ein's stonelike face gave way suddenly, and Hibiki could hear the inner humanity coming through his voice. "Let's get down to business. You have come to see if anyone actually managed to capture their chosen legendary pokémon. I will show you. But I wanted to prepare you before I opened this ball."

"Prepare us?" asked Hibiki. "Why . . . what's in there?"

"I caught who I said I would," Ein almost whispered, slowly and deliberately as if each word counted. "I caught Ho-oh. Or as she calls herself, Belle." He beckoned them with his hand. "Come and see."


	49. Chapter 49

The brothers followed Ein to a contained room, where there were monitors on the wall displaying the hallway they had just traversed. Nobody was currently in the room, although there was a Team Rocket Admin jacket draped over one of the chairs. Hibiki guessed it was Basho's.

Ein placed his Master Ball on the security guard table and looked at them both, though mostly at Kenta. "In a moment you can let her out," he said solemnly. "And she will not attack you, at least, not physically. But she will look straight into your soul, and tell you things you may not want to hear."

Kenta motioned for Hibiki to sit down, as he himself did the same. He looked up at Ein with wonder, and Hibiki could tell that he was impressed. "I don't know what incredible algorithm you must have used to locate Ho-oh, let alone get near enough for a capture," he uttered. "But whatever your past, I will hold you in highest esteem for this feat."

"Don't flatter me," Ein rebuked angrily. "This experience has utterly changed who I am. Even a staunch man of science can be shaken when forced to confront his conscience, and this second time was far greater than the first with Wes. I warn you now, Kenta! Do not take her lightly. She is a goddess of this world, and not meant to be confined in any sort of prison. I regret what I have done, but I cannot undo it now!"

 _Was he really a scientist?_ Hibiki wondered, as Ein ranted and raved almost to the point of madness. _He sounds more like a monk coming out of a vision._

Ein turned and opened the door. "I'll be waiting outside," he said. "This is between you and Belle now."

The door closed behind him. Hibiki and Kenta looked at each other.

"Zapdos is on standby, right?" Hibiki asked, feeling the hint of a shiver down his spine.

"Always. But I don't think it will be necessary for this," replied Kenta, reaching out his finger toward the Master Ball's release button. Just inches away from it, he wavered, and Hibiki saw that his hand was shaking slightly. Kenta took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out.

"Whew . . . still not fully prepared mentally. There's no getting used to this." He gave Hibiki a glance over his shoulder. "Mind your distance, bro. If Ein's telling the truth as I suspect, this room's about to be filled by a very large bird."

With that, he touched the button and leaped back. The room was immediately bathed in the white light of pokeball energy being released, but it didn't stop there. A warm, honey-colored light filled Hibiki's senses, and bright as it was, he could still see through it. Lying on the ground before him was a seven-colored phoenix, predominantly gold, but exhibiting a permanent rainbow in its long tail plume. As Kenta had suspected, the creature was enormous, taking up nearly a third of the room all by herself. The countenance of her face was fierce upon first impression, but for those who could endure her gaze for long enough, there was a gentle benevolence behind it. Hibiki felt a sudden urge to kneel before her in reverence. Now he understood why Ein had acted the way he did. You couldn't stand in the presence of this glorious bird, and not feel your own sin and dirtiness.

"Ho-oh . . . Belle." Kenta had removed his cap, and was staring at the phoenix. Wonder was in his voice, and he shrank a little as her gaze fell upon him. "Are you-? . . . that is to say . . . have we met before?"

Hibiki wondered if he was talking to himself, until he heard a flowing, disembodied female voice answer.

"We do not know each other," came her rich voice. "But we know _of_ each other. You are the one the humans call Gold, are you not?"

Kenta nodded, keeping his head low.

"There is Gold here . . . indeed, one with a Heart of Gold. But it is not you." Belle's fierce expression did not change, but the subtle undertone indicated sadness and disappointment. "I know very little of your past, trainer. But I see your heart at present, and I perceive only tarnished bronze. I wonder what must have happened for you to make yourself this way."

Kenta's face went red with shame, and he averted his eyes, no longer able to endure the stare of the phoenix. "I won't make excuses," he said quietly. "It's true that I've gotten my hands dirty for the sake of my goal." Suddenly, he raised his head, again meeting the legendary pokémon eye for eye. "But I won't apologize either. My enemy kidnapped the pokémon I loved most, and I didn't even get the chance to say goodbye. If you really can see into my heart, you already know how far I'll go to get Baku back."

Belle closed her eyes. "The strivings of those with corrupted hearts concern me little. It is said that anyone who sees me will have eternal happiness, but that is only because I am drawn to people who already have indwelling joy." She renewed her stare upon Kenta, and Hibiki could practically sense the weight of the judgment. "You perverted the natural order when you sent out people to catch me in your prison ball. Oh yes- I sense your guilt for that, and other things. I would forgive you, yea, pity you, if you were sorry, truly sorry. But even now, your heart hardens."

Hibiki could see Kenta's face darken with anger, much like Basho's had just minutes ago. He could tell that the phoenix was not mocking his brother, nor trying to incite his fury, despite how it might have sounded in any other context. But she was confronting him with the bare, naked truth, and Kenta's long-subdued agony of doubt was finally rising to the surface. Indeed, he had done things that, while terrible, were justifiable. Hibiki had been there to comfort him every time afterward. But for as long as he was in the presence of the phoenix, Kenta would not be able to block out the hounding of his own black deeds: the people he had lied to, the pokémon he had stricken down, the innocents he had sometimes insulted, sometimes terrorized, the felons he had aided, the one man he had recently mutilated- all of it surged to the forefront. Kenta's current anger was not directed at Ho-oh. It was against himself, and what he had become.

"Belle . . ."

Hibiki croaked the name out hoarsely. The phoenix's gaze turned to him, and it was gentle and benevolent again.

"Please stop," he begged, looking over at Kenta as he pulled at his hair in torment. "Why are you doing this?"

"It is not my intention to cause suffering, Heart of Gold," she answered sadly. "But like you, I am a created being. And I am fire, sacred fire. I exist to serve as a litmus for purity, for it is not relative, as people think. Those with impure hearts cannot abide me, nor I, them. And so I have kept my distance . . . until that choice was denied me."

"Pure heart . . .?" Hibiki stopped as a realization struck him. "You called me Heart of Gold. But how am I different than Kenta? I've done bad things too!"

"Nevertheless, there is a Heart of Gold within you," replied Belle solemnly. "And not just you alone, but a small collection of similar people, all with that same heart."

Kenta was breathing hard, and he passed a hand over his face. "I have to go," he murmured suddenly, and turned and jerked the door open. Alarmed, Hibiki twisted around in his chair and held out a hand to stop him.

"Wait!"

But Kenta turned away. "I'm sorry." And he shut the door firmly behind him.

There Hibiki found himself, alone for the first time in a long time, sitting in a small room with one of the greatest pokémon in the world directly across from him. His mind refused to work, and he could only whisper urgently to himself as he forced thoughts to come through.

"Aghhh . . . how did it get to this? Come on, Hibiki, think! . . . Okay, we came to check down here for a reason. Kenta was looking for a way to get the Master Balls into the Pokémon League un-detected, and then he wanted to know if any of the organizations had succeeded in getting a legendary pokémon . . ."

"Pokémon League? . . . Master Balls?" Belle's voice sounded again, and there was a note of surprise in it. "You have more?"

Hibiki looked at her curiously. "Yes . . . wow. Even legendary pokémon are amazed when we speak of them." With a sudden unpleasant twinge in his stomach, Hibiki remembered how Mewtwo had reacted upon hearing Kenta's plan to spread Master Balls through the trainer population. "But we won't use them to capture any more legendary pokémon, I swear!" he cried. "Kenta only wanted to get back pokémon that had already been taken from their trainers by our government. If we don't, they'll end up becoming machines of war!"

Now it was Belle's turn to give Hibiki the curious look. "Oh? So you need a creature like me to play a part in this . . ."

Hibiki shied from her. "You don't have to," he mumbled. "You shouldn't have to. Now that I've seen how this has gone, I'll . . . I'll see if I can somehow convince Ein to let you go. This was a bad idea."

Through Belle's ever-present glare came a sudden beaming smile. "No bargaining for my freedom?" she asked, though it was more a statement than a question. "Just like that, you would remove my shackles?"

Hibiki shrugged. "Yeah. Someone like you doesn't belong in a Master Ball. It's the right thing to do."

The phoenix beamed, and the light around her seemed to grow warmer and friendlier. "Then I shall do the right thing to you as well."

...

A half-hour later, Hibiki, Kenta, and Ein stood alone at the eastern gate of Mahogany Town, watching as a rainbow lined the sky above them. At its highest end, disappearing into the clouds, was a golden bird bound south. Once the rainbow was faded from sight, Ein sighed and turned his back, facing the road.

"It's depressing to bear," he murmured, probably to himself. "You have all this brainpower, work hard to make something of yourself, finally succeed, and then it turns out that your life's work was a bad choice. I didn't think I'd have to face that again, and so soon. Perhaps I'm not as smart as I thought after all."

Hibiki watched as he trodded off, hands in his coat pockets, shoulders slumped low. "Are you gonna be okay?" he called after him.

"Yeah . . . in time," Ein replied distantly as he went. "I think I'll just . . . visit the lake. Maybe skip a few stones over it. I used to enjoy that when I was little. Didn't have many chances to do it, where I lived." He turned a corner and disappeared out of sight.

Kenta bent down and began picking up the pieces of the smashed Master Ball that Ein had left behind. Hibiki knelt and helped him.

"Your buddy Kurt's gonna be pissed about this."

"He'll get over it. In the end, Ho-oh helped us after all."

Kenta's voice was steady, but as Hibiki looked up at him, he saw an expression he had never seen on his brother before. It was the look of deep hurt that appears fleetingly on the face of a small child, just before bursting into tears. Only Kenta's eyes were already red underneath, as though he had recently finished crying.

"Kenta?" Hibiki said, putting a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Are you . . . are you okay?"

It was a mindless question. In that moment, Kenta looked more broken than the fragments of Ein's Master Ball. "Okay?" he echoed in a croaking voice. Kenta gave a hiccupping cough, swallowed twice, and brushed his cheek. " . . . You know the answer to that. I can't hide it from you any longer."

Immediately, Hibiki felt the tender wish to comfort him, and folded an arm around his older brother's shoulder. They both sat down on the ground, looking at the fragments still scattered in the dust.

"So you're not okay," he said, as gently as he could. "But I've been with you through your low points before. We've always managed to bounce back together, when the going got tough."

"Maybe not this time . . ." Kenta gave a shuddering sigh. Now Hibiki felt his brother's arm on his own shoulder. "I wanted to make it to the end. I still want to see it through. But Hibiki, I am just _so tired_ . . ."

Hibiki said nothing, but gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. The corner of Kenta's mouth went up ever so slightly.

"Thanks for trying. But it's time I just told you . . . I've been holding back this whole time. I've always tried to put on a brave or cheerful front to make this work. But I'm not just tired- I'm exhausted. And I act all confident, but the truth is, I don't know that I'll ever see Baku again."

Kenta buried his face in his knees, and Hibiki could think of nothing but to hug him a bit tighter. Kenta exhaled a long breath. "What a pathetic spectacle, huh?" he said, his voice muffled through his pants. "But it feels good to say out loud."

There were no words for the occasion. The brothers just sat there as they were, and let the time pass. It might have been minutes, or hours, before Kenta finally spoke again. His voice was stronger and clearer, but still burdened with melancholy.

"God, that hurt. To hear Ho-oh tell me what I've always known, to get it directly from her . . . god, that hurt so much." He looked up at the sky, cloudless and a cool blue. "I saw her once before this. Or . . . maybe it wasn't her, but a different one. But back then, it filled me with inspiration. Made me believe I could do anything . . ."

With a final deep inhale and exhale, Kenta reached out and grabbed up the rest of the Master Ball fragments, then straightened to a standing position. Hibiki came up with him. Kenta looked at him, and there was new resolve in his face.

"Hey, bro. Promise me something."

Hibiki snapped to attention. "Sure. What?"

"Promise me you'll make the Pokémon Trainer journey. She said you had a Heart of Gold. If you live out your dream, I'm certain you'll do greater things than I ever did."

Hibiki's eyes widened. "Greater than you, Kenta? How can you expect that of me? I don't believe there's a greater trainer than you!"

"Then make it so. I'll do what I can to make it happen." Kenta held Hibiki's arms firmly, standing straight and tall, as if already swearing an oath of his own.

"Kenta . . ." Hibiki looked away. "You know I can't promise what I don't have the assurance to make happen." He met Kenta's pleading eyes again. "But I will do it if I can. No vows or anything like that. Just let my yes be a yes."

Kenta looked at him, nodded, and gave him a smile that seemed to lift much care and worry from his face.

"That will do. Let's see this through to the end."


	50. Chapter 50

A/N: I have a confession to make. We're getting very close to the end of this story, but I never actually finished it. So, uh . . . I doubt I can keep this pace of daily posting all the way to the end. Sorry 'bout that. In the meantime, you may be interested in listening to the audio retelling of Dragoness Bahamut's "Making My Way," which I update daily onto YouTube. As always, thank you all very much for staying with me through this adventure. One last thing: though this chapter contains references to several of my favorite fanfic authors, I'm sending a special shout-out to Legal Eagle. Thanks for all the return commentary, buddy!

...

The morning of the Master's Tournament dawned, and just outside the cave that was Victory Road, four figures crouched concealed in a bush. Two officials of the Pokémon League guarded the entrance, and the quartet watched as a young man with windswept, spiky hair approached them. The guards hailed him, and one extended a hand, into which the newcomer placed his pokedex. They examined it for a minute, then returned it to him with a nod. He said something in a nasally voice, then passed between them, into the darkness of the cave.

"As expected of Blue," murmured the figure in the red cap, ducking back behind the bush. "He always did feel the need to be ahead of me in everything." He turned and smirked to the young man crouching beside him, dressed in his military police uniform. "Now more than ever, since he knows I'm coming."

Kenta, the one donning the police disguise, was too distracted by the list in his hands to take notice of Red's comment. Hibiki read it over his shoulder. It was a printout of all the pre-2008 pokémon masters who had registered for the tournament, along with the date and time Victory Road would be open for them to pass through to the main arena. They had arrived at six o'clock AM, a full hour before the official 7:00 time, in order to secure a concealed location and observe the patterns of the guards. For the most part, there was virtually no change in their behavior, so Kenta had taken to reading and re-reading the names on the list, trying to predict how they might end up battling, and how various match-ups could turn out. Although there were more than sixty names on the list, Hibiki only recognized eight of the competitors, mostly for their Champion status. He read them over, checking the notes Kenta had made about them in the margins.

Brendan B. - The Hoenn Champion, and the favorite to win the tournament.

Cynthia C. - The Sinnoh Champ, and a dark horse known for her team variety.

Rosette C. - The relatively-new Champion of Herron, though probably the weakest.

Blue M. - The guy who had just passed. Red's former rival, currently a gym leader.

Wallace M. - Like Blue, also a gym leader who was Champion for a short time.

Steven S. - Former Hoenn Champion, undefeated until he threw the battle with Wallace.

Red T. - That was Red, of course, whose sheer power people considered legendary.

Lance W. - The reigning Kanto/Johto Champ. He wouldn't need to take Victory Road.

There were other names such as Mike A, Jolt M, Theo L, Mikazuchi M, and so on, but Hibiki drew a blank at these. He glanced over at their other companion in disguise: Bill. He was supposedly going as one of the lesser-known Masters, a former Ace Trainer called "Sanchez" who had a flair for stylish dress code. Bill currently wore a cloak that was entirely black, save for a trim pattern of golden-yellow lines that ran through it. It had been custom-made by none other than Red's mother, but only- according to Red- after a long dialogue she'd had with him. Bill also wore a wide-rimmed hat that covered a good deal of his face. This too was in keeping with Sanchez's style, as he would often let his hair cover his eyes and his face. Hibiki didn't hesitate to comment on how vain Sanchez was, but Kenta welcomed it as a lucky break.

"We should have gone out while they were distracted with Blue," murmured Bill.

"Negative," said Kenta, finally looking up from his paper. "I saw that one guard's eyes roving around. They both need to be distracted by coming Masters before we can slip out of these bushes. Plus, we should probably keep Blue a good distance from Red for now."

"Well, don't be too picky," Bill replied, brushing his cloak nervously. "If the real Ace Sanchez comes through before I do, Plan A will be a bust." He tugged his hat down. "I'm actually somewhat hoping for that. This outfit is ridiculous."

"Stop fidgeting with it. You look great."

Red held up a finger to hush them. "A girl's coming by," he said. "This might be our opening, Gold. Get ready."

Hibiki watched the two of them crouch, looking just over the top of the bush with their muscles tense as springs. Faintly, he could hear the girl's voice as she spoke with the guards.

"Topaz from Johto. Here's my pokedex."

Suddenly, Red sprang from his crouch and made a few loping strides away from the bush. Kenta followed right on his heels, and a second later, the two of them settled into an easy stroll. Hibiki hadn't seen, but the guards must have been sufficiently preoccupied with the girl, Topaz.

 _That means Bill's coming right after,_ thought Hibiki, glancing back at him. If any trainer would hold the attention of both guards, it would be Red, and even Bill's flashy attire would be unnoticed for a few seconds. Bill, knowing he was next, pulled a red metallic device from his pocket, and opening it, handed it to Hibiki. It was Kenta's pokedex, but Bill had fiddled with it to change the trainer identification.

"Tell me the truth," Bill said, almost in a pleading voice. "Do I look like Sanchez? I tried to alter the picture a bit so it would fit me better."

Hibiki glanced over the electronic photo. Sanchez wore no hat in his picture, but he did have on the shadow-black cloak, and his eyes were barely visible through a curtain of hair. Bill's face wasn't as young, nor was his skin as tight as Sanchez's, but his hair was the right color. Hibiki made a combing motion with his fingers.

"Scrape your hair over your eyes. And, uh . . ." Hibiki looked at the list that Kenta had left behind, and his personal notes on Sanchez. "Blow it out of your face from time to time. It says here he likes doing that."

Bill nodded, and peeked around the edge of the bush. Topaz was gone, and Kenta and Red had just about reached the guards. He took the pokedex back. "Alright. I'm as ready as I'm gonna get. I still feel exposed though."

"Don't be afraid," whispered Hibiki, trying his best to be encouraging. "Even if it all goes to hell, I'll be here to back you up."

They could hear Kenta talking now.

"-orders are to escort him through Victory Road. Not that he needs it."

There was a gust of air, and Hibiki felt emptiness where Bill's presence had just been beside him. He looked out as the cloaked imposter headed towards Kenta, Red, and the guards. There was a noticeable rigidity in Bill's step, but thankfully, the cloak seemed to make his movements flow more naturally. If all went well, he would fool the guards and set up his equipment within Victory Road tunnel, which he'd brought under his cloak. This would leave Hibiki to slip around to the public Indigo HQ entrance, where he would blend in with the audience as just another spectator. That was the plan, anyway.

Kenta marched into the tunnel, still in character as a security officer. Red lingered with the guards for a couple more seconds, and Hibiki saw him pass back a slip of paper with his signature on it.

 _They asked for his autograph?_ he thought incredulously. _Geez . . . well, at least he's in._

Red disappeared into the darkness, and the guards turned their attention upon Bill in his Sanchez costume. Hibiki couldn't make out their speech, but he saw Bill turn over the pokedex, and they looked at it. Bill made a halfhearted blow at his hair.

 _Come on, come on . . ._ Hibiki thought, feeling himself start to sweat. Then he heard the guard on the left speak, in a loud and none-too-gentle voice.

"This is a Johto-brand pokedex. But it says here you're a Kanto trainer."

Now the guard on the right spoke, in a tone just as accusatory. "Take off your hat, pretty boy. I want to see your face better."

 _Oh, crap,_ thought Hibiki, _his hair's too frizzy. He must have been trying too hard not to let it show!_

Bill, now cringing meekly, removed his hat slowly and with obvious great reluctance. One guard immediately pulled out a pokeball, while the other snatched his radio.

"You're not Sanchez! Who are you? Do you realize it's a crime to impersonate a Pokémon Master for official business?"

 _Busted,_ thought Hibiki, a jolt of adrenaline coursing through him as he stood straight up from the bushes and drew back his throwing arm. _Gotta stop this before it gets any more out of hand!_

"Snorlax, use Yawn! Put that guard with the radio to sleep!"

In a burst of white, Snorlax's enormous bulk appeared on the field, shaking the ground as he touched down. He inhaled a huge breath, preparing a hypnotic yawn through the power of suggestion that would surely-

It happened so fast that Hibiki only registered the event after Snorlax was thrown skyward. The guard with the pokeball had released his own monster: a four-armed, muscle-ridden Machamp wearing a shirt with the word "bouncer" imprinted on it. The Machamp had proceeded to punch Snorlax with sufficient force to knock a train off its tracks, and Snorlax now rolled and bounced, leaving dirt skids wherever he struck the ground. He was finally stopped by a looming boulder, which left a Snorlax-shaped impression as he fell. Hibiki stared, mouth agape.

 _Dear God. That was brutal._

"Come out of there with your hands up!" the Machamp's trainer roared at Hibiki. "Or I'll send this guy in to take you. I'm warning you- he might accidentally break your bones!"

Hibiki fingered his Master Ball, in which Steven's Metagross dwelt. _I can't believe it's gone this badly, this quickly!_ he thought, heart pounding. _But it's too late for anything else now. We have to use force, or we're done for!_

"Go-"

He never got the words out, for something happened the next second that nobody was expecting.

Machamp was suddenly gored through the chest by two horned pokémon that appeared out of nowhere. One looked like a narwhal with fins shaped like wings, and the other was a horse-like creature that really _did_ have wings. Then people appeared- at least ten of them- all wearing standard civilian clothing, but with pokeballs in hand. Machamp groaned and fell, and the two horned pokémon withdrew to their apparent trainers.

"Don't move!" shouted the girl with the winged horse. "We have you surrounded, and we DO have the power to beat you, uber pokémon or not!"

The guard with the radio gritted his teeth angrily. "You stupid kids kicked the wrong hornet nest," he growled. "I've already called for backup, and then we'll see who's surrounded-"

He stopped short and his eyes went wide, then his expression went blank and he dropped forward. In the same instant, his partner with the Machamp dropped to the ground, and behind them stood Kenta and Red in fighting stances. Kenta straightened up and looked around at the people who had unexpectedly come to their aid. His eyes stopped as they fell upon Bill and Hibiki.

"Are you guys okay? We only caught the tail end of it," he said hastily, with a concerned face. "What happened?"

"I'm sure you can guess that it didn't work," answered Bill. "As to these folks, I'm as lost as you."


	51. Chapter 51

Hibiki withdrew Snorlax, and hurried back to his companions. He could feel the gaze of all the eyes looking back and forth, between his own group and the new arrivals. He could also make out a few whispers, most in awed reverence.

"Red . . . it's really him."

"What do we say to him?"

"Ian, say something."

The boy with the narwhal pokémon, apparently Ian, stepped forward. He was dressed in black pants and a hoodie, and wore glasses that seemed to reflect any light, giving a sense of glowing eyes. He approached Red, followed by the girl with the winged horse, and both of them bowed at the waist.

"Master Red . . . I'm Ian, and this is my sister, Ivy." He glanced distrustfully at Kenta. "I thought this guy was a guard at first, but-"

"He's with me," said Red, raising his hand and indicating at Hibiki and Bill. "They all are. Thank you for stepping in, but . . . who are you?"

"We are the Vanguard," said Ian in a strong voice, as he and his peers stood up straight. "And we have made it our mission to fight on the side of all free trainers, at the front lines."

"That fight is still a few hours away," said Kenta hurriedly, "and you may have started too soon. You heard what that guard said; we must assume backup is on its way. If you want to be there for the final battle, you guys had better scatter for now."

"We started exactly as we meant to," Ivy cut in confidently. "But you're right. We mean to wreak a little havoc here and there, and distract 'em until Brendan starts the real fireworks." Her gaze turned upon Hibiki. "He's nearby, isn't he? Aren't you that kid who's always hanging around him?"

Hibiki's stomach did a flip- he hadn't expected anyone to recognize him. "Is it really that obvious who I am? I need a haircut or something."

"And elevator shoes," Kenta added with a hint of a smirk.

Ivy looked back and forth, between Kenta and Hibiki, and suddenly her eyes widened as revelation struck.

"Wait . . . it's you!" She pointed at Kenta. "You're him! Brendan!" Her hands flew to her mouth in excitement. "Oh my gosh, I didn't think- . . . Brendan! There's so much I have to tell you!"

Hibiki caught movement in his peripheral vision, and he glanced up at the sky to see a group of flying pokémon heading their way. They were not yet close enough to determine exactly, but they were large-sized and carried riders. Bill followed his gaze, and he touched Red's arm nervously. "We've got company."

"There's never any time," muttered Kenta. "Sorry, Ivy, but we have to go. See you at the Indigo League Stadium."

"Wait!"

Now Ian spoke up, looking at Ivy. "I can take our people out of here. Can you go with Brendan's group and fill him in?"

"Fill us in?" Hibiki repeated.

Red backed into the cave, still looking skyward. "Gold, we really have to go . . ."

Kenta turned, and waved for his companions to follow him. "Alright, let's do whatever- but we gotta disappear. Come on!"

They ran into the darkness, aided only by the glow coming from Red's Pikachu. Barely a minute later, they could hear the faint noise of commotion outside, carried through the tunnel by echo. They plowed on regardless, not stopping until Red suddenly jerked to a halt and put out his arms to stop the others. He waved them behind a cluster of rocks, and there they gathered, panting softly in the dark.

"What? What is it?" breathed Bill.

"There's a light ahead," Red whispered. "Coming from the tail of an Ampharos. I think we've caught up to that Topaz girl who went before us. And . . . well, no need to draw more attention to ourselves."

Hibiki yelped suddenly as he felt something sharp prick him in the back. He turned to see the winged horse pokémon retreat backwards, head lowered apologetically.

"Galicorn, watch it with that horn," Ivy hissed in a reprimanding voice.

The light ahead of them faded slightly as Topaz and her Ampharos appeared to move on. Still they waited, and they could hear no further noises behind them.

"I guess the military police all went after your group," reasoned Bill. "Will they be okay?"

"Yeah. They're good at escaping," Ivy replied, though not in a completely certain voice. "We practiced getaways, and what we'd say and do if we got caught."

"And what was that?" asked Kenta.

"Four words only. 'Long live Free Japan.' It's a bit too simplistic, but none of us really wanted to think about actually being taken in."

"Oh? How long have you been thinking it over?"

"Since the moment our pokémon were stolen." Ivy's eyes glittered in the dark. "There are many rebel groups that have formed together since you went out and spoke to the public, Brendan," she said, "but we have been active since long before that."

Hibiki's curiosity peaked. "Ivy? You say there are other groups?"

"Of course. Off the top of my head, there's the Johto Ronin, the Release, the Neo Sekihotai, the Dragon Tamers Union . . . you get the point. They're all underground, of course, but civilian militia nevertheless. That's what happens when your police become imperial pawns- people take matters into their own hands."

As Ivy continued to talk, she began bringing up instances of brutality and violence, all of which had escalated tensions toward civil war. Outspoken critics of G.R.I.P. would suddenly find that their houses had been vandalized or burned down. A couple had been hurt, or outright killed in supposed hit-and-run "accidents." Some had simply vanished altogether. It had become a deadly game- not only to question the G.R.I.P. policy, but merely to ask what had become of its most outspoken detractors. Hibiki's eyes grew wider and wider as he continued to listen, hardly able to believe his ears. Much of this was news to him, having lived in the relative isolation of New Bark Town with nothing but a controlled media on television to listen to. Things were worse than he had thought, yet he had somehow missed it all.

"Ivy," said Red, joining the conversation, "you must have known what we were preparing to do at the Indigo League. How is that?"

Ivy smiled. "That's easy. We got word from friends who had gone to the Johto pokeball craftsman. It was short notice, but here we are."

"Word sure travels fast," said Bill, with a low whistle. "Considering how far away the Herron region is, few people here would recognize your pokémon. Galicorn, the first recorded pokémon of pure Light-type."

Ivy nodded toward her winged horse with the horn that had poked Hibiki. "He's not technically in the uber tier," she said, "but Galicorn's the next thing from it. I'm amazed that I've been allowed to keep him for this long."

"Nobody should have to think like that," said Kenta, clenching his fist. "And we're going to change it. Come on- let's get to the end of this road."

As they continued onward through Victory Road, the group occasionally came across the sight of Johto's strongest wild pokémon population. Or at least, they would have been, if not for those inhabiting Mount Silver. Most of the cave creatures kept to themselves, withdrawing from the light of Pikachu's glow. Golbat would flitter about the cave ceiling, and wild Graveler would press themselves into the wall. However, just before they reached the end, the party witnessed a clash between two wild pokémon.

They heard the roars before they saw the combatants. A massive bear pokémon lumbered about, swinging wildly at a spinning ball that seemed to constantly elude its claws. The ball suddenly uncurled, revealing a miniature elephant with a solid build and wicked-looking tusks. The elephant pokémon trumped and slammed its forelegs into the ground, creating a tremor that Hibiki felt even from where he was standing. It was nowhere near the power of Kenta's Salamence, but it was enough to rock the bear off its feet. The elephant curled itself up again, and spinning forward, plowed into the downed bear with the force of a cannonball. The bear flew through the air and smashed into a stalagmite, roaring in pain. It got up, clutching its arm, and stared at the elephant pokémon across the floor. The elephant snorted threateningly, and this cowed the bear into retreating through the darkness.

"A Donphan and an Ursaring," muttered Bill. "I wonder what they were fighting about."

Hibiki stared at the elephant- the Donphan- with a vigorous excitement he'd never felt before. He turned to Kenta, grinning from ear to ear. "That was the coolest thing I've ever seen in my life!" he gushed. "Did you see that? That Donphan did a Sonic spindash and knocked that bear on his ass!"

Kenta looked at him with bemusement. "You like Donphans, huh?" he said. "Maybe someday, when things have cooled down, you'll own one."

"Yes! My life would be complete."

"Uh, excuse me . . ." Bill spoke up. "I believe this is about as far as I can go without attracting attention. The cave exit's just up ahead, right?"

They all looked onward. There was indeed a faint glow of sunlight just around the far bend, and no doubt, Silhouette police guards stationed at the sides to double-check the Masters that came through. Hibiki suddenly realized the folly of his situation. Things had not worked as they had planned: Bill would stay in the cave, but he himself should have been in the seats of the stadium crowd by now.

"I need to set up here," Bill continued, withdrawing the Signal Disruptor from his cloak. "This dark clothing should help me blend into the cave, but I've got my Exeggcutor and Red's Pikachu if I do get attacked." He looked at Hibiki and Ivy. "What will you two do?"

Hibiki shook his head. "I've got to get to my stadium seat somehow. But if security's half as tight as I expect, I'm certain they'll have cameras or something on the cave's exit."

Ivy smiled and patted her horse pokémon's neck. "Where are you supposed to sit?"


	52. Chapter 52

A small battalion of guards stood at alert on the outgoing end of Victory Road, pokeballs in hand, grimly set upon catching any unauthorized person who emerged from the darkness. As they watched the mouth of the cave, a sudden dragon roar issued from within, followed by a large cloud of smoke that erupted forth. Two human forms charged out through the Smokescreen, pumping their arms to escape from the whirling ball of death just behind. A Charizard swooped through the smoke and slammed its foot down upon the spinning pokémon, squashing it to the ground and forcing a halt. As the Smokescreen cleared, the guards gathered around the newcomers, fully intent on identifying them. At first, the two young men kept their backs turned, looking upon the Charizard that had saved them, and the Donphan under its feet. Then they turned, and the guards recognized the description of the trainer clad in red.

"I wouldn't get too close," he said calmly. "This Donphan is crazy. Give him space, and he'll probably wander back into the tunnel when he wakes up."

"Mr. Red!" stuttered one of the guards, standing stiffly at attention. "I-it's an honor to see you in action before the tournament, sir!"

"Mr. Red will need his pokémon restored back to full fitness before his first morning match," Kenta said in the irate voice of an impatient officer. "The sooner, the better. If you would, gentlemen, please direct your energies towards the detainment of the intruders. They cannot be far behind us."

Kenta's uniform still bore the rank of Sergeant, making him the most senior officer among the staff. The men regarded him without question. "Roger that. We'll get them if the pokémon don't." They exchanged brief salutes, and the parties separated.

A short distance away, Hibiki watched the facade with fascination. "I never get tired of watching my brother act," he said with a grin. "Today, the world's gonna get a show to remember."

"We'd better not linger here," came Ivy's voice behind him. "Let's get to the stadium before anyone notices the distortions in the air."

Hibiki turned back and looked at what, to himself and the rest of the world, was empty space. In fact, he was virtually invisible too. The only sign of their presence was three shadows upon the ground, and a wavy blur of the background when they moved. Hibiki could only describe the distortion as how something might look through the hot air over a fire.

"This is nuts!" he whispered excitedly, as they made their way quickly toward the enormous domed structure that was Indigo Coliseum. "We're invisible! They didn't even see us when we came out of the smoke!"

"Refraction," Ivy said in a self-satisfied tone. "An ability unique to Galicorn, in which they can bend light waves around themselves to blend into the environment. It raises evasiveness, and wild Galicorn only ever reveal themselves to pure-hearted maidens."

"Kinda like Latias," Hibiki mused. "Wait a sec. So are you saying you're a pure-hearted maiden?"

"Maybe . . . probably not. But my mother was. She passed Galicorn down to me, just before the trainer ban interrupted my journey." There was a note of sly amusement in Ivy's voice. "Were you doubting the goodness of my heart, then?"

Hibiki felt his ears burning. He didn't answer.

"I'm just kidding." Ivy's voice was casual, but it soon turned serious and frustrated. "Ah! Look at the entrance. It's crowded, and there are dogs at the door. They'll sniff us out."

The two trainers were still amidst trees and stone pillars that led to the competitors' quarters of the Indigo Colosseum. The main entrance led out into a vast parking lot, where legions of people were already pouring in, despite the relatively early hour. As Ivy had observed, wardens in blue uniforms stood at the civilian entrance, assisted by every canine sentinel from Growlithe to Mightyena. Being invisible would prove useless if they were set upon by pokémon bloodhounds.

"Galicorn has wings, right?" Hibiki whispered. "Can't he fly us over the top of the arena?"

"Not an option," Ivy replied. "It would disrupt his light refraction, and he can only carry people while walking, anyway."

 _Geez, then what good is a horse's wings?_ thought Hibiki cynically.

"Wait, I've got a better idea. Look to the right."

Hibiki followed Ivy's instructions, and his eyes fell upon a set of double-doors around the back of the stadium, facing away from the parking lot. It might have been a simple storage shed, except for the fact that the blonde-haired head of Topaz was disappearing through it.

"The challengers' waiting area?" he mused.

"So it would seem. C'mon." Ivy's camoflauged form hurried away, and Hibiki hastened to stay within Galigorn's light-bending range.

"But wouldn't it be guarded?"

"I'll bet it was, until all the guards posted there stacked up on Victory Road's exit." Ivy paused at the door. "We can get through to stadium seating this way. It still won't be easy, but the other routes are too dangerous-"

She pulled open the door, then to the startling of Hibiki, gave a shriek before covering her mouth.

"And what if there had been a guard on this side?" came the voice of an older girl.

"Onee-san!"

"Never mind, get in. And bring your friend with you."

Hibiki felt Ivy's invisible hand yank him inside, and a moment later, Galicorn's light distortion wore off. Standing before them with arms crossed was a slender young woman in her early twenties, whose most prominent features were purple hair and golden glasses. Hibiki took only a second to recognize her.

 _Rosette Cedars . . . the Champion from Herron. Wait- did Ivy just refer to her as a big sister?!_

"I didn't know you guys were related," Hibiki blurted out, not knowing what to say.

Rosette glanced at him. "Why else would I be standing here?" she said calmly. "I knew Ivy and Ian were coming. You caused a lot of commotion for so early in the morning."

All at once, Hibiki noticed that a crowd of trainers had begun to gather, attracted by Ivy's shriek of surprise from earlier. There weren't all that many, since the majority of Masters was still to arrive, but Hibiki only recognized the faces of Topaz and Blue among them. A couple looked at Ivy and himself, though most eyes were trained upon the unfamiliar Galicorn.

"Uh, sorry to bother you all," Hibiki said meekly. "We were just, uh, saying hi. We'll be going now. Nothing to see he-"

At once, the double-doors behind him burst open, and Kenta and Red marched through and slammed them shut, breathing heavily. Their backs were turned for the moment.

"Lousy fanboys," Red grumbled, glaring at Kenta, who was wiping his brow with his hat. "What did I say, Gold? Didn't I tell you that sticking around out there would draw unwanted attention?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" Kenta replied, in a defensive-whiny voice. "I needed to confirm that the trainer spectators were allowed to bring their pokémon inside-"

The two of them stopped arguing and looked slowly behind them, suddenly aware that they were being watched. In a way, Hibiki was glad that the attention was off of him, but it wasn't really any better. The silence was so thick that it could be cut with a Scyther claw.

"Um . . . hi, everyone," Red finally said lamely. "I'm Red. This is Gold."

The next few minutes were a blur to Hibiki. Questions and exclamations came thundering down upon them like a series of unrelenting ocean waves. At first, everyone was interested in Red: where he had been, what he had been doing all this time, and why he had suddenly decided to come back now of all times. But steadily, Red's answers turned the eye of public interest toward Kenta, and all faces- even Blue's- aimed towards him. Kenta covered his own face with his officer hat, and after a few unrequited inquiries, held up his hand for silence.

"I want to tell you guys what's going on, just as much as you want to know," he said. "But there are more Pokémon Masters who still have to arrive, first. When the tournament is ready to commence, I'll have a message for everyone. For now, is there a room me 'n Red can stay in?"

Instantly, several forms were uttered of the question: "What? How come you get to hang with Red?", especially from Blue. However, Hibiki felt the collar of his shirt snatched from behind, and then Red was dragging him and Kenta through the crowd of Masters and down a hallway with a series of doors. Rosette, who had somehow gotten ahead of them, pointed a helpful finger into one of the rooms, and Red pulled them in without a second's hesitation. Hibiki looked back just as she was shutting the door.

"Uh, thanks for the assist. But why are you helping us?"

"Because you brought Ivy to me. I've been wanting to speak with her for a while now." Rosette waved her hand with a small smile. "Bye now." And the door clicked shut.

Red moved in to lock the door, and Hibiki noticed that his backpack wasn't on anymore. He turned around to see Kenta, holding the backpack and staring wide-eyed at a trainer matchup chart on the wall. A second later, he promptly yanked down his pants. Underneath, he was wearing black-and-gold shorts, but Hibiki put a hand over his eyes anyway.

"Geez, dude! Why don't you turn on some 80's porn music while you're at it?"

Kenta pulled a pair of Brendan Birch-style black pants from Red's backpack and tugged them on. "I'd laugh at that, but frankly, I'm trying not to throw up, here. Come over and have a look at the pairing for the first-round match."

Hibiki positioned himself close enough that he could read the roster. His heart skipped a beat as he read the combatants' names.

 _Brendan Birch Vs. Steven Stone._

"Looks like they intend to start this contest off with a bang," said Red quietly from Hibiki's left. "And would you look at that . . . I'm all the way on the opposite end. If I were to end up facing Brendan or Steven, it wouldn't be until the final match."

"It's a shame that won't be happening," said Kenta, pulling Brendan's beanie cap over his head. "Pokémon limit or not, that would have been an epic match." He stared back at the roster. "It looks like Brendan's going to be approaching from the east gate of the arena, and Steven, from the west. Which side are we on right now?"

Red shook his head. Both looked at Hibiki, but he merely shrugged. Kenta sighed.

"Well, then. I'm going to have to be confined in here until showtime. Hibiki, you've got a job to-"

A sharp series of knocks on the door broke his speech. "Red?" came a nasally voice. "It's Blue. Can you talk right now?"

The three of them exchanged hasty glances, and Red drew a finger across his throat. "Can this wait?" Red called back. "The tournament's not until ten, and I still need some prep time."

A different voice spoke from outside the door, and Hibiki saw Kenta tense in recognition.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Red. It's Brendan. Blue told me you were here. I meant to welcome you as soon as you got in, but I was tied up with some League matters."

Red said nothing, but looked inquiringly at Kenta. Hibiki, judging by the naked dread on his brother's face, could only imagine what must be going through his mind. It was probably something like:

 _OH MY GOD! It's BRENDAN! I'm not ready for this yet! What do I do? If we let him in, will he recognize us? Will he freak out? Will he be angry? Will we have to knock him unconscious?_

Hibiki cringed as the last thought hit him. _Where did that come from?_

"Red?" Brendan called again.

In a flash, Kenta rushed forward, scooped up Hibiki, and charged toward a line of lockers at the far wall. "Uh, yeah, alright, just a second," Red murmured, as Kenta stuffed Hibiki into a locker. Kenta gave him an apologetic look, then slammed the metal door. A moment later, Hibiki heard the locker beside him shut as well. Both Nyna brothers were stuffed away like extra sets of smelly workout clothes.


	53. Chapter 53

Through the crack of the locker, Hibiki could see Red unlock the door and open it, revealing Brendan and Blue in the hallway. As expected, Brendan wore the same green beanie, red shirt, and black pants that Kenta had always posed in. He looked upon Red with wonder, but there was a good-natured smile on his face. Hibiki guessed that Brendan could be easily likeable as a person.

"Wow . . . it's really you. I really am sorry, but this is literally the only time I will have to meet you, Red. I've been wanting to talk for so long . . ."

"(Kenta?)" Hibiki whispered to the wall on his left.

"(Yeah?)"

"(Why did you shove us in here?)"

"(I panicked. It happens.)"

"(So what's Red supposed to do?)" Hibiki asked, as Red shut the door on an injured-looking Blue.

"(I'll let him handle Brendan. I trust him.)"

"(My legs are starting to cramp.)"

"(Suck it up, runt. You've got more space than me.)"

"(But-)"

"(Seriously, dude, hush up. Let's hear what Brendan's saying.)"

Red had moved to sit down on a bench along the wall, which had escaped Hibiki's notice until now. Brendan joined him, legs apart and hands clasped together in front. By the tone of his voice, he still hadn't gotten over his awe of Red.

"-hiding for that long! What made you decide to come back?"

"Japan needed me," sighed Red. "Plus, rumor has it that whoever wins this tournament not only wins the prize money, but gets his original Master team back."

Brendan laughed nervously. "Where did you hear that?"

"A little Pidgey told me."

 _This is my first time hearing that,_ thought Hibiki. _Sheesh. Every time I think I'm in the loop, there's another surprise._

"Ah, well . . ." Brendan scratched the back of his head, still uncomfortable. "I didn't think that rumor would spread so quickly. Between you and me, it's only half-true. You do get your pokémon, but only on the condition that you join the Black Ops."

Red turned his face toward Brendan, smiling grimly. "I hope you realize that I'm going to get my pokémon back, either way. This just seemed like the most direct route."

Brendan shrugged, looking away as if disinterested. "I admire your spirit, and I'm sure that you can kick up a hell of a firestorm if you mean to. But I've had months to see firsthand how deep G.R.I.P. has sunk its roots."

Red stared at him for a long moment. "Who do you think I am?" he asked in a soft voice, which nevertheless carried the hardness of iron.

"Oh, I have no question about that," said Brendan, gazing at his hands. "You're the strongest trainer in the known world. Stronger than me, stronger than Blue- hell, stronger than Steven and Lance. But I'm telling you, it doesn't matter anymore."

"Of course it matters!" Red said angrily, his voice rising. "Would I have come out of hiding if it didn't matter? G.R.I.P. has woken a sleeping giant, my friend!"

"I'm not G.R.I.P.," replied Brendan patiently. "I'm just the observer who sometimes gives them annoying suggestions. But let me put this into perspective for you. We've both become champions by fighting five elite trainers in a row, right?"

Red looked like he wanted to say something else, but he swallowed and nodded.

"Well, going against G.R.I.P. is like fighting a slightly-weaker Elite Four, only they're actually the Elite Four Thousand, you don't get breaks in between to heal, and they all come at you at the same time." Brendan paused for a second and thought. "Oh, and if you lose- excuse me, _when_ you lose- you go to jail."

Brendan crossed his arms, leaned his back against the wall, and looked at Red meaningfully. For a second, Hibiki noticed Red glance at his locker, before sighing and looking away.

"So," Red muttered quietly, "that's how it is, is it? Did they send you as an ambassador to tell me that?"

"Actually, no," said Brendan, eyes gazing at the ceiling. "I mean . . . yes, eventually, they would send someone you trust more than me. But it sounded to me like you needed to hear it now."

Red gave a contemptuous bark of laughter. "Do you approve of this situation?" he asked. "I'm just saying, you seem pretty resigned to it."

Brendan looked hurt. "I've been accused of that more times than you know," he said, his posture now shrunken and withdrawn. "And no- I don't like G.R.I.P. I don't know anybody who does, outside of their payroll. But I'm familiar with the extent of their power, and there's no contesting it."

"So you haven't done anything?" pressed Red.

Brendan gave him an odd look, which Hibiki, from his locker, couldn't interpret. As he watched, the Hoenn Champion picked one of the pokeballs from his belt and widened it.

"Arturia. Come."

In a flash of light, a green-and-white pokémon with a flowing dress stood at the room's center- a Gardevoir. Hibiki instantly noticed that there was a thin blue collar around her neck with blinking lights, which obviously wasn't part of her original anatomy.

"You called, Master?" she asked- or rather, the feminine voice from the collar spoke. Red's mouth fell open. For the first time since he had entered the room, Brendan grinned again, and his smile was wide. "Pretty cool, huh?" he said proudly. "I've been working on this with a guy in Devon Corporation. It's supposed to translate pokémon speech to Japanese, and this is the latest prototype."

Red stared at Arturia, and she blinked at him. "You are speechless," she said, in a gentle but relatively-emotionless voice. "That is natural. Take some time to collect your thoughts."

"The talk-collar isn't exactly a new concept," Brendan continued excitedly, "but it only works on Gardevoir at this time. I think it's because they're psychic and have empathic abilities that already nearly match human minds."

Red opened his mouth, covered it, and turned away from Brendan and Arturia. Turning back to them again, he wiped his face and brushed a hand through his hair, still looking stunned. "I've been away too long," he finally mumbled, unable to keep his eyes focused anywhere for more than a second. Arturia placed a paw on his shoulder.

"Please sit down. Your coordination is impaired."

Nodding, Red allowed himself to be steered into a seating position on the bench. He looked weakly at Brendan. "I've heard pokémon talk before. But this is the first time I've seen it done to common . . . well, relatively common pokémon."

"I know, right?" said Brendan, grinning ear-to-ear. "We're still refining it, but I've got a vision all mapped out. One day in the near future, hundreds of Gardevoir will have the same speech ability. It'll be like Chobits, only they'll have souls!"

Brendan raised a finger and winked. "You asked what I've done in the wake of G.R.I.P.'s rise to power. The answer is, I've looked for creative methods to return things to the way they were, with the least change possible. Well, so far, this is my best answer! You gotta admit, it was dangerous and borderline stupid in the past to allow ten-year-old children to travel through the wilderness with strangers and superpowered monsters. But if every new trainer had a Gardevoir chaperone, think of how much risk would be alleviated. They could have a guide and low-maintenance protector until they've found their footing."

"That's . . . well that's . . . hmm." Red placed a hand over his mouth once again.

"Master." Arturia turned, and to Hibiki's shock, stared right in his direction. "I detect a great deal of stress from that direction."

"Huh?" Brendan looked where she was looking. "The lockers?"

"Indeed. Specifically, that person fears what may happen if human primal urges should conquer them during journeys with other Gardevoir."

"Primal-?" Brendan shook his head, and his face grew stern. "Never mind. Red! There's someone in the lockers!"

Arturia looked upon Red with her giant eyes. "He knows."

"What?" Brendan halted in mid-stride and stared back at Red. "What is she talking about?"

Red tensed, and for a moment, Hibiki wondered if he would summon his Charizard and trap Brendan. However, Red relaxed his body and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "It's no use, Gold," he sighed. "We let down our guard. You may as well come out now."

 _Crap,_ thought Hibiki. _After all this trouble! Now what are we gonna do?_

The locker next to him clanged. There was a short silence, then it clanged again. Then Kenta spoke, sounding embarrassed.

"I, uh . . . think I'm stuck. Can you get it, please?"

Brendan gave Red a suspicious look, and reached out, unlatching the locker. "Alright, what's going-?"

He went completely silent. Light poured suddenly into Hibiki's locker as Red released him, and he climbed stiffly out just in time to see Brendan gawking at his body double. There, lying in the locker like a vampire in its coffin, was a person with the same head beanie, same red shirt, and the same black pants. He smiled guiltily and wiggled his fingers at Brendan.

"Hi. Nice to meet ya."

Brendan raised his eyebrows. "Who the hell are you?"

Red cleared his throat timidly. "Brendan. Do you remember how you were just calling me the world's strongest trainer, better than yourself, Blue, and Steven?"

" . . . Yeah."

"This is the guy who beat me."


	54. Chapter 54

Fifteen minutes had gone by, and Kenta, Red, and Brendan stood in a little triangle while Hibiki and the Gardevoir looked on, forgotten for the moment. The three were in the midst of a heated discussion, with Brendan only slightly calmer than he had been in the moment he had discovered his doppelganger in the locker. Having heard Kenta's story, Brendan nevertheless stood rooted in his conviction that G.R.I.P. was unbeatable.

"Both of you are out of your minds," he insisted, pointing his finger between Kenta and Red. "There are entirely too many variables in this plan of yours that you can't count on. What if Team Rocket or the other renegade trainers don't step in to help? What if the Snag Machine plan fails? What if G.R.I.P. hired a few 'trainers' in this tournament who actually specialize in killing and making it look like an accident?"

"I know," said Red shortly. "But I don't care. If there was a better time to do this, it's already passed."

"Remember the kinds of people we are," Kenta added. "Red dove headfirst into a Rocket hideout before he had even gotten his fourth badge. I approached a Raikou when it threatened to shock me to death at point-blank range. You climbed a rickety tower during an earthquake to awaken a ragnarok dragon." Kenta smiled. "We're a reckless bunch, and times are calling for that again."

Brendan frowned and crossed his arms. Red smirked slightly. "Oh, come on. Don't try to hide it. I can already see that manic glint in your eye."

Hibiki saw it too, if only for a fraction of a second- a flash of an old, fiery expression, like that of a trainer proclaiming his intentions to be a Master for the first time, before the world. At the core of his being, Brendan was a guy who rose to a challenge.

"Alright," he said steadily, "you've told me what you were going to do, and have done up to this moment. But what now? Did you expect to go out there, pretend to be me, and tell G.R.I.P. to disband? Because any sort of offensive action would be like walking up to a Blazekin and kicking it in the shin."

Kenta smiled a devilish grin. "Not if you fight dirty. Y'see, Bill's done more with his time than build a Signal Disruptor. The stuff Red's backpack will change the narrative. To alter your analogy . . . I plan to kick the Blazekin in the nuts, then gouge it in the throat, twist its head around about two hundred and seventy degrees, and serve it to the nation with teriyaki sauce."

Brendan's face whitened, and Hibiki laughed in spite of himself. The Gardevoir glanced at him with a concerned look, and he shrugged. "He's a scary guy sometimes. You learn to live with it."

Kenta tightened the beanie over his head, nodding at Brendan. "You've got this right, though. I want to go out there dressed as you, one last time."

Brendan hesitated for a moment, but a firmness of resolve seemed to wash over him the next instant, and he nodded back. "Alright, you crazy jackass, go ahead. But at least tell me why."

...

"Aaaaaaand it begins!" boomed the commentator's voice, echoing through sound speakers all over Indigo Stadium. "The Master's Tournament of 2008 will start off with the answer to an epic question! Wallace beat Steven, and Brendan beat Wallace, but what would have happened if Brendan had faced Steven? From the east gate, please welcome the former Champion of Steel Resolve, Steveeeen STONE!"

A roar of approval burst from the crowd as a grey-haired man in his early thirties strode out onto the central battlefield. An enormous sign above the arena flared to life, displaying his face and upper torso in Champion uniform. Beside it, two pokeball icons flashed, indicating the number of pokémon to be used for the match.

"And from the west: a man who needs no introduction, being the uncontested Champion for longer than . . ."

Within the corridor leading out to the field, Hibiki, Kenta, and Brendan stood ready for the call to go out. Red was no longer with them, having gone to take care of some other business. As the announcer built up to Brendan's name, Kenta glanced back at Hibiki and swallowed hard.

"This is it, huh?" asked Hibiki in a thin voice. His own heartbeat was drumming mercilessly; he couldn't imagine how it must be like for Kenta.

"This is it," Kenta whispered in confirmation. "Hey, uh . . ." He looked meaningfully at Hibiki. "Just in case I don't get the chance to say this later, I want you to know . . . to know how thankful I am that you came with me, brother."

"Kent-"

"BRENDAAAAN BIRCH!"

Anything Hibiki could have said was lost to the deluge of noise the crowd made. From a bird's-eye view over the stadium, one would witness trainers of all ages rising to their feet with screams and thunderous applause as a young man in green, red, and black moved into view on the side of the battlefield opposite to Steven. The scoreboard sign lit up again, posting Brendan's beaming profile in the usual clothes. On the field, eight uniformed guards stood with arms crossed at the walls, while a referee bearing two flags approached the center floor. Clasping both flags in one hand, he produced a microphone in the other and cleared his throat.

"In compliance with tradition, both trainers will have a moment to address each other before combat. The crowd is reminded to please minimize noise from this point on, as it is necessary for the pokémon to hear their trainers' orders directly from them during the fight."

As the referee spoke, the trainer platforms at the east and west gates began to rise off the ground, simultaneously producing safety rails for the height. The stadium was built in such a way that, in addition to protection, the elevated positions would allow trainer voices to be naturally amplified. Pointing his flags at Steven, the referee gave a short tweet on his whistle. Steven opened his arms in what looked like an embrace.

"Every match I get to fight in this tournament is its own gift, but battling you will be the greatest. I've been meaning to fight you ever since you took Wallace's place, but there was simply never time." He reached outward with his right arm. "I want to know what you saw on your journey with pokémon. I want to know what you felt. I want you to hit me with it all! In this match that never was, but always should have been, I say to you now . . . bring it!"

Another eruption of cheers. The referee pointed at Brendan and whistled, and the crowd stilled to such a breathless silence that the humming of the scoreboard could be heard.

"Well . . ." came the reply, sounding hesitant. "This is awkward. After all your years of waiting, I'm afraid I can't give you what you want. But . . ." The young man drew himself up taller. "I will let you know what I've seen and felt. And the moment this battle begins, I will have a gift for you. Trust me, you'll understand when you see it."

A few confused murmurings broke out in the crowd, but the referee gave a sharp blast of his whistle and backed up, waving his flags.

"There's the signal to start the match!" exclaimed the announcer. "Who will face off first? Let the pokeballs fly!"

From Steven's side burst a massive tri-horned pokémon that shook the stands as it landed: an Aggron. Opposite to it materialized a creature of similar size and weight, and Steven cried out in shocked exclamation as he looked upon it. Appearance of a four-legged tank. Cross over its face. And . . . running down its left eye, a jagged, vertical scar.

"What- . . . Metagross? How?" Steven looked up at his opponent on the stand, as the surrounding crowd gave uttered gasps of astonishment, and the guards stood rigidly, grabbing for their own pokeballs. "Brendan, how?!"

The other trainer reached for his white beanie and pulled it from his head, dropping it to the ground. "I'm not Brendan Birch," he said. "But I am on your side." He produced a cap of black and gold, and set it where the beanie had been. "This Metagross belongs at your side as well, not opposite to you. He is not mine, and not the property of Maikeru, whom I took from, and certainly not G.R.I.P.'s. He is yours alone, and I return him to you now, in the name of Gold!"

With a great thrust of his arm, Gold- Kenta- flung Metagross's Master Ball all the way across the battlefield to Steven's perch. Though he was still too stunned to speak, Steven caught the ball, looking at Kenta with disbelieving eyes.

"What a twist of events!" cried the announcer. "Was this drama planned before the show? It looks like security is moving in to arrest the imposter posing as Brendan. I think I speak for everyone when I say: where is the real Champion Birch?"

There were eight flashes of light, and the battlefield was suddenly surrounded by top-tier pokémon. Kenta took them in with a brief look: Walrein, Elekible, Rhyperior, Venusaur, Alakazam, Tyranitar, Scizor, and Magmortar. Without hesitation, he loosed his final two pokémon. In another blaze of pokeball energy, Salamence and Zapdos appeared on either side of his trainer platform, flapping on the wind. Kenta looked around at the officers in front of him.

"You fellas look disappointed. Did Arcada tell you I was dead before he confirmed the kill?"

"On the contrary," said the closest officer. "He said we could expect an appearance from you. Walrein!"

A flurry of ice shards and hailstones burst from the walrus pokémon's mouth: a Blizzard attack, aimed directly at Kenta. Immediately, Bolt whirled in front of him, letting off a shielding green aura that dispelled the icy attack. Kenta pointed at the Walrein.

"Thanks Bolt- Zapdos, THUNDER!"

The electrical bird charged up and let loose a crackling blast of yellow energy. However, before it reached Walrein, its path changed course, seeping instead into the horn of Rhyperior. This was a combination that Kenta's team couldn't hope to beat under normal circumstances, let alone eight-to-two, without a mutual knockout. Even if Bolt's Brick Break was capable of ending Walrein in one hit, Rhyperior would just finish him off with a well-placed Rock-type attack. And it wasn't like Zapdos could electrocute Walrein until Rhyperior and its LightningRod ability were done away with first. Kenta had bet upon the Rhydon evolution having the Solid Rock ability, and he had lost. The other guards simultaneously pointed at Zapdos who, unlike the Salamence, had no Protect up. Commands for high-level special and physical attacks echoed through the stadium, but one bellow suddenly drowned them all out.

"MUDDY WATER!"

From directly behind Kenta's raised platform, a tidal wave of brown swept through the stadium. It was not high enough to reach the crowded stands, but it cast a shadow over every man and pokémon that weren't in the elevated trainer boxes.

"What is this?!" screamed the guard with the Magmortar. Kenta smiled coldly.

"Fighting dirty."

With a mighty rushing noise, the muddy tide collapsed all at once, smashing mercilessly upon its victims. When it cleared and drained, eight men lay upon the ground, covered in muck. The only pokémon left standing were Vensaur, Metagross, and Aggron, the latter who had only avoided fainting because of his Sturdy ability. Zapdos and Bolt hovered above the battle, safe from harm.


	55. Chapter 55

The announcer was in hysterics. "Oh, my! In a twist of irony, a tide of murky water has nearly swept the field clean! It looks like the referee got away in time, but someone should check upon our security!" In a more muffled tone, he could be heard shouting into the back of the room: "We have more security, right?"

The people in the crowd were also yelling wildly, some in ecstasy at receiving a better show than they were promised, some in terror of the life-threatening levels of power displayed within the arena, but most, with jubilation for what had just happened. Kenta looked around until he spotted one of the major camera crews, and pointed a finger at them as they continued to record.

"I know you're watching, Arcada! And you too, Mr. Kurisawa! And all you faceless weasels who make up G.R.I.P.! Up until now, I've been in hiding, just like you. But I'm not hiding anymore. You kidnapped my friends- no, much more, you stole everyone's pokémon! I don't care how you try to justify it, or how you paint those who stand against you like a troublemaker. You wanna make me out as a terrorist? Well, I won't take hostages, but I will make demands. RELEASE our pokémon, or I won't hesitate to use force. That's the only language you understand!"

The stadium erupted into cheers and applause. Aside from an exceptional few, every member was a pokémon enthusiast, still rooted in the old ways. As the fanfare continued, another figure that walked out from the west gate of the coliseum, followed by a lumbering, fearsome-looking Swampert. All voices hushed, for he was the one who had sent forth the Muddy Water tidal wave that had saved Kenta. He surveyed the field for a moment, then raised both arms as he addressed the crowd.

"My name is Brendan Birch!" he shouted. "And I am on Gold's side!"

Another trainer emerged onto the field, this time from the east side of the arena. It was the purple-haired female Champion of Herron, followed by her younger sister. She also raised her voice so that it reverberated off the stadium walls.

"My name is Rosette Cedars! And I am on Gold's side!"

The microphone in the announcer booth gave a sudden shriek, and instead of the announcer's voice, another came through, strong and confident.

"My name . . . is Red. I am on Gold's side." He paused, then spoke again. "And that's MY Venusaur on the field!"

True to his claim, Venusaur had suddenly perked up and looked around expectantly, having heard his true master's voice.

"Well, Steven?" asked Kenta, looking across at his former opponent on the other side of the field. "You're awfully quiet. Don't you have anything to say?"

There was another electrical screeching noise, this time, from the scoreboard. The faces of the trainers were gone, having been replaced by a live feed to what looked like a trainer bedroom with multiple pokémon dolls. The background was difficult to determine, for most of the screen was taken up by the face of a young woman in her twenties. She had long and curly black hair, and wore contacts that made one of her eyes impossibly blue, and the other, impossibly green. She glared at the camera, so that it appeared she was glowering down upon the trainers below.

"Don't speak, Steven," she said quickly and curtly. "Out of admiration for you, _I_ will speak now, lest let the pressure of this crowd impair your good judgment."

Kenta stared up at the screen, confused. "Uh . . ." He glanced around. "I think I missed a step. Who is this?"

Blue, who had just come out onto the field riding his Blastoise, glared up at the screen with his arms crossed. "Damn that woman. She interrupted my entrance."

"Jenn." Red's voice issued again over the loudspeaker. "That's her Champion name, anyway. She's the person Blue beat before I cleared the Elite Four."

"What?!" Brendan stared up at the screen in surprise. "You mean . . . _she's_ the Steven of the Kanto region?"

"In the loosest sense, yes," snarled Blue. "If Steven was an arrogant bitch."

Jenn smiled humorlessly. "That hurts, coming from you, Blue," she said smoothly. "But let's not make this a personal thing. It's bigger than any of us."

"Agreed," said Kenta, his eyes now glued to the screen. "Speak, then. Why are you here?"

"I want to talk reason," replied Jenn. "I knew there would come a day when someone like you would pull a stunt like this, using the very rhetoric you've spouted. The fact is, I've even rehearsed for it. So let's put aside G.R.I.P. and rebellion for a second, and just talk about the natural way things used to be between humans and animals. In short, we used them. We may have befriended a few dogs, cats, and horses, but the rest, we turned into food and tools. We could do that, because we were stronger and more numerous than them.

"That forever changed, when pokémon came to be. They now easily outnumber us. Quite a few species are more intelligent than us. And frankly, the vast majority of them are stronger than us. We have all become proverbial lion tamers, but sooner or later, the lions will get over their fear of the whip. Don't you think it might be better to end this facade on our own terms than facing a worse alternative?"

Kenta blinked, confused. "Let me get this straight," he said slowly. "You think we should stop catching and training pokémon because you're afraid they'll all gang up on humanity otherwise?"

"Humanity is no longer at the top of the food chain," said Jenn pointedly. "Or, for that matter, anywhere near it. When the collective pokémon world begins to realize that it has been set against itself for decades, battling for our petty amusement, its wild anger will turn righteously on us. We're in for the worst war we've ever known in the history of human existence . . ." Jenn raised a finger pointedly. "Unless we take steps to offset it now. G.R.I.P. has taken the first of those steps. For instance, I trust you've seen the televised rehabilitation that they have done to former trained pokémon?"

Kenta gave a barking laugh. "Ha! Are you still using that tired narrative? Steven here was sure that his Metagross was in some program to go back to the wild, as a kind of pokémon ambassador. Funny thing though- I found him in the possession of a guy from Orre, hundreds of miles from his native Hoenn habitat, in the middle of a damn desert. You wanna tell me what that was about?"

Jenn shrugged and gave a small, less-than-pleasant smile. "I don't claim to know every little detail of the rehab program. But I do know that the Steel-type is one of the few that can survive desert conditions, unaffected by even the worst of sandstorms." Her smile widened. "Oh, by the way, I _thought_ you looked familiar. You say that you took that Metagross from a trainer while in Orre? Please, indulge my curiosity: does this mean you succeeded in stealing the Snag Machine after all, Kenta Nyna?"

Kenta's body went rigid. The surrounding crowd in the stadium stared on at him, entirely silent for the last few minutes, not even daring to cough. For a second, Kenta's eyes were veiled, but he spoke in a poisonous whisper that could be heard by all.

"You whore for G.R.I.P. . . . do you think you can just look down and call me the thief?" Kenta produced a concealed pokeball and tossed it skyward. Dragonite emerged, wearing a custom-made camera that fitted snugly into his horn. Kenta pointed upward, and the dragon pokémon ascended without a moment's hesitation, sending a blast of wind through the seats.

"I'll show you who's guilty of stealing. Red! Override the feed!"

Jenn's face disappeared from the scoreboard, replaced instead by a bird's-eye view of Indigo Stadium, via Dragonite's camera. The orange dragon circled around once overhead, then turned north and bulleted in the direction of Indigo PokeCenter- which connected directly to the Elite Four stairwell.

Brendan gasped sharply and looked urgently up at Kenta's platform.

"Hey! Order Dragonite to turn around. I saw something in the video!"

Kenta glanced worriedly at him, but touched his ear and muttered under his breath. Abruptly, the Dragonite-camera on screen spun around and returned Indigo Stadium to view.

" _What_ , Brendan?" Kenta asked sharply. "I'm about to show the world what those lying bastards are hiding in the Elite Four HQ!"

"Just keep watching. There! You see that?"

On screen, the sky was filled with the dots of distant flying pokémon. On the ground, a subtle dust cloud had formed as multiple armored vehicles moved along the road. In a moment, everything became clear: a mobile reconnaissance force was swiftly bearing down on the stadium, ready to engage any and all trainers who had disrupted the event. Some people in the crowd began to cry out in fright.

Kenta narrowed his eyes. "So that's why Jenn wanted to keep me talking. What did I say, Red? Force is the only language they understand."

"Good thing it's a second language to me," Red boomed grimly over the loudspeaker. "This is it, everyone! If you came only as a pedestrian, leave now before you get caught up in the crossfire. If you're here to make your stand, then get ready for battle!"

The noise of the stadium increased exponentially as crowds of people jostled and scurried out of their seats in different directions. Kenta touched his ear again, which if one were to inspect closer, contained a custom-made mini communication device, courtesy of Bill.

"This will be a meaningless skirmish if we don't show everyone what they need to see, while they're looking. We may even be able to avoid battle completely, if we hurry. Go, Dragonite! Get to the Elite Four HQ! Extremespeed!"

Once more, as Dragonite sped off, the scoreboard screen featured a distant pokémon center surrounded by cobalt mountains, drawing closer, closer, closer-

Then suddenly, the feed froze. The screen blinked out for a second, and to the horror of all watching, returned to the face with the blue and green eyes.

"I've got it!" a male voice shouted triumphantly in the background audio. "Sorry, Bill, but now I'm the new-"

"Shut up, C!" Jenn shouted angrily, looking to the right of her screen for a moment. Her gaze returned to the camera, eyes alight with fury. "You insolent little- how DARE you cut off my feed! Of course, now you realize that your well-being is in my hands, don't you? Try a stunt like that again, and I'll make sure that arrest is the least of your problems!"

The din of the stadium was finally dying down, now that the remaining trainers from the crowd were finally forming up. A voice spoke out, which had hardly uttered a word since the tournament had turned into a ground zero for trainer civil war.

"Jenn . . . what do you mean that our well-being is in your hands?" asked Steven. His voice no longer carried the meek astonishment of an indecisive person. His tone was now cold and stern, like a soldier talking to an enemy.

"Oh! Steven." The edge in Jenn's voice grew softer. "I don't include you, of course. But it means exactly how it sounds. That force headed your way? It's mine to command."

"What?" Now Rosette spoke, befuddled. "Are you the head of G.R.I.P.?"

Jenn just smiled.

"No she's not," said Blue, an edge of irritation in his voice. "I don't believe for a second that G.R.I.P. would show its director's true face. Even if the approaching military police do follow her orders, she is still only the washed-up has-been that I took down all those years ago."


	56. Chapter 56

The sounds of military vehicles from outside the stadium were now loud enough to hear. Within the walls, trainers were letting out pokemon in pairs, before running out with them. A group of teenagers in capes seemed to feature dragon pokemon like Gabite and Altaria. A different faction, standing in a circle, were handing out evolites to their Vigoroth, Grovyle, Lairon, and other stage-two Hoenn-themed pokemon. Some other trainers put some distance between themselves and the main crowd before releasing pokemon of substantial size, the most stand-out being Onix and Rapidash. The focus of Jenn's eyes shifted for a moment from the camera, as if she was viewing the live feed of the pokemon trainers preparing to defend the stadium. Then she let out a spiteful laugh.

"Congratulations. Without me on the field, I think you have us slightly outnumbered. That's about the full extent of your advantage, but I suppose you'll grasp whatever false hope you can get your hands on." Jenn extended an arm out towards the camera, as if reaching toward the stadium remnants in gesture. "For the record, I meant what I said about us needing to stop abusing pokemon. At least for me, that has always been what this was about."

From outside the walls, a megaphone squealed to life, causing Kenta and several other Masters to turn their heads. Kenta's eyes widened at the sound of the voice on the other end.

"This is Captain Arcada of the Silhouette Military Police. All camera crews recording live in the vicinity are to shut down their devices at once. You have ten seconds to comply. Upon discovery of any footage from this moment onward, you will be charged with co-conspiracy and treated similarly to the perpetrators."

A few moments of silence passed, and then Arcada spoke again.

"I speak now to Kenta Nyna, and any Pokemon Masters cooperating with him. It's not too late for surrender- call off your subordinates. As of now, the most you will be accountable for are eight police officers and disrupting a public event. Resist, and you may be responsible for the pointless injury or deaths of hundreds more people and pokemon- and you'll still lose. You know this is not an idle boast. You know better than anyone, the kind of pokemon firepower we have. Step outside now, place your pokeballs on the ground, and nobody has to get hurt."

Kenta's body trembled with fury. "Arcada came after all," he whispered. "'Nobody has to get hurt,' my ass. I go out there, and he gets a second chance to do what he couldn't do the first time."

There was a bright burst of light from outside the stadium walls, as though someone had just snapped the world's biggest flash camera. It was quickly followed by a rumble that shook the ground.

"What's happening out there, Red?" cried Blue, fighting to keep his balance.

"I can see it all from here," Red replied, his voice still magnified by the stadium loudspeaker. "They're moving to surround the place. About twenty Steelix just got released, and they've burrowed under us. A bunch of Gengar and other ghost pokemon are poised to walk through the walls and attack. In a few seconds, you'll be able to look up and see flying pokemon from overhead. Half of them are Dragon-types!"

"I know what's going on," muttered one of the nameless Masters, who wore a trim beard and blonde hair. "This is the tactic of Snagem members from Orre. They incapacitate the trainer instead of going for his pokemon, then take advantage of the following confusion."

"This is what I was afraid of, Kenta," Brendan groaned, looking tense and edgy. "This is why I tried to warn you. It's not a pokemon battle they'll give, it's overkill."

Kenta closed his eyes, breathed in once through his nose, and let it puff out of his mouth. "It begins," he said quietly. Then- "ZAPDOS! FLASH!"

In a second, Zapdos rocketed into the clouds like a reverse lightning bolt, then let off a yellow surge of light. The burst intensified into a photon blast, surrounding the local area with such sudden brightness that no shadows could exist- not that anyone could have seen the phenomenon. Those who did not immediately close their eyes, then cover their faces with both arms suffered temporary blindness, ranging from a few minutes to a few hours, depending on how directly they had beheld Zapdos a moment earlier.

"Hostile engagement!" Arcada cried. "Move in! Take them into custody!"

Several things happened in the next few seconds, each event so quickly following the next that they might have seemed simultaneous. Steven's voice bellowed, giving his Metagross the order to use Earthquake. The ground shook, causing all trainers in the vicinity to lose balance, and Kenta, to tumble off his safety platform. Bolt swooped in to catch him mid-fall. The heads and necks of multiple steel serpents arose from the arena floor, like a mechanical hydra from under the earth. Most of the stadium Masters writhed upon the ground, still too blind and shaken to react. Meanwhile, the yellow light from Zapdos had started to fade, but it was suddenly replaced with a warm and golden light. A large sack dropped to the ground beside Kenta and his Salamence, and a birdlike shriek filled the air, as if trumpeting for war. Then came an incredible wave of heat, as a circle of fire surrounded the stadium inner walls, lighting the Steelix a brilliant orange color. The ground shook again and again as the overheated Steel-types fell unconscious, unable to handle the strain of the heat. Then all eyes that were able looked up.

Above their heads soared a phoenix, Ho-oh, who had answered summons in the form of a Zapdos beacon. She wheeled in a circle, flashing a rainbow every time her wings flapped, and gave off another echoing scream like a great eagle. Every Gengar, Dusknoir, Misdreavus, and other ghost pokemon poised in the walls turned and fled, both in terror of the fire, and the spectacle of a deathless phoenix in her wrath. Overhead, most Silhouette flying pokemon also fell back in retreat, giving a wide berth to the bird that easily dwarfed them all. With one last screech, Ho-oh burst into flame and dissipated, vanishing as suddenly as she had come.

Blue, who had been covering his head, managed to recover his speaking ability first. "What in the . . . what was that-?!"

"A sign of hope," Kenta replied, kneeling and undoing the strings on his sack. "Just a one-time thing, I'm afraid, because Belle wasn't really supposed to get involved in the affairs of mortals. Don't worry, though. She's gone now, but she delivered this."

The sack's top popped open, and spheres of white and purple glistened inside.

Outside the stadium, trainers and pokemon were in semi disarray. A wall of military police pokemon had begun to advance upon the trainers of the stadium crowd, consisting of powerhouses like Electivire, Feraligator, Garchomp, Pinsir, Porygon-Z, Heracross, Kangaskhan, and so on. They had not yet attacked while their masters were still rubbing blindness from their eyes, and they were somewhat cowed by the sudden and unexpected appearance of the legendary Ho-oh. This pause would only be temporary, but for the moment, both attackers and defenders were equally distracted in wonder at what they had seen above Indigo Plateau.

Before anyone had completely regained their bearings, a harsh voice rang through the late-morning cool.

"Now, Team Rocket! Take them! And if you can, take their pokemon!"

Up from the ground rose an ambush of men in black uniforms, donned with a red "R" logo. They had somehow kept themselves undetected when the Silhouette mobile task force initially rolled through. Now they were positioned behind the convoy, at their southernmost flank. Instantly, a Silhouette officer was suddenly seized in the coils of an Arbok, and missiles containing nets shot through the air, trapping a Tauros and Gallade.

"Watch your six!" shouted Arcada, pointing and shouting into his megaphone. "They're trying to flank us! Send in the Flying-types, and don't let them near the vehicles!"

Even as the military police remobilized, another group emerged from the trees, dressed in what could only be described as pirate getup. Upon each member's head was a blue bandana with an "A" logo, written as if in bones. They gave no rallying calls, but instead threw pokeballs, roaring in unison. In a second, a school of piranha-like fish pokemon lay flopping in the grass. A nearby Silhouette corporal stood watching them in bemused disbelief, his hands on his hips.

"Really, Team Aqua? You too? And what are those, level twenty-something Carvanha? What are they gonna do- flop us to death?"

In response, several more Aquas drew out from the cover of the trees, bearing the same Team Rocket missile launchers containing capture nets of heavy-duty mesh. The corporal clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Oh, for f- Torterra! Sceptile! Take them down!"

The two grass starters plunged through the sea of flopping Carvanha to reach the Aquas. They never made it. The accumulation of Carvanha Rough Skin dropped them before they were even halfway there.

Reports of rogue teams were now coming from everywhere, including the other side of Indigo Stadium. Here, a bunch of robed idiots were riding their Camerupt in trample formation; there, some fresh hellions from the Herron region were deliberately having their pokemon Selfdestruct while their comrades cast Protect. A bunch of girls who looked more like a coven of witches were whittling down their section of the front lines with nothing but Shedinja and Fury Cutter. At large, these efforts were having little effect on the superior trained pokemon of Japan's finest trainers, but the waves of resistance continued, ceaseless, unrelenting.

"Sir."

Captain Arcada lowered his radio and glanced irritably at the officer addressing him. Sergeant Daisuke Shin stood in stiff salute, his face unreadable. The Captain glared at him. "What?"

"Something is disrupting the pokeball transport signal. Our current pokemon are slowly beginning to wear down, and we can't gain access to fresh reinforcements, nor take away the perps'."

Arcada's face went red, but he spoke in a voice so calm and quiet that Shin could barely hear him over the noise of battle. "What do you mean, 'something' is disrupting the teleport? This is not the time for being vague, Sergeant."

Shin shook his head. "I don't know, sir. I merely reported the anomaly as soon as it came to my attention."

Arcada looked hard at him, then away, wiping a hand across his mouth. "If I find out that this is another conveniently-timed incident of your incompetence, I'll do more than demote you again . . . so what are you suggesting?"

"I'm not trying to suggest anything. But if the event should arise that we are forced to retreat-"

"Out of the question! Use as many Revives and Elixers as you must, but we will NOT lose to a schoolyard of third-rate teenage upstarts with Rattatas and Zubats!"

Shin swallowed. "Sir, the Rockets have already captured two of the trucks containing our emergency supplies."

Arcada glanced behind him with a start. "They w-"

An explosive roar caught the attention of both men. In the distance, standing in the main entrance of the burning coliseum, stood Kenta, Red, and Brendan. Kenta's Salamence cast a shadow over the pokemon just in front of him, dropping their physical power with his Intimidate. At the same time, Zapdos set up a Light Screen, protecting them against special-type attacks. Red's Venusaur had just shot a Blissey with Leech Seed, and his Charizard slashed an enemy Flygon with Dragon Claw. Brendan's Swampert was locked in arm-to-arm combat with a Machamp, while Arturia the Gardevoir powered up with Calm Mind. Most of their tactics appeared to be a stall for time, but as Arcada continued to watch, Kenta touched a purple pokeball to his arm, causing it to glow. He threw, and suddenly, one of the Silhouette Lapras was gone, sucked into the ball. Kenta caught the ball as it flew back, and tossed it to a nearby trainer, who ran off with it. Arcada's face went white with horrified recognition, as Kenta loaded another purple ball.

"It can't be. It can't be! Kenta Nyna with a Snag Machine and MULTIPLE Master Balls? How did he do it? How?!"

Shin shrugged, a subtle smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "He's Gold."

Arcada must not have seen or heard him, but he fumbled for his radio even as Kenta captured a Elite-level Magnezone. The lesser pokemon of the common trainers littered the field, yet their defeat was irrelevant. As long as the Master force maintained defensive lines around Kenta, Silhouette uber pokemon would ultimately fall under his side's control. All of them- assuming Kenta didn't run out of Master Balls. To fight him would be like fighting fire with napalm. But neither could Arcada withdraw his forces. The whole reason he had been sent was to stop Kenta's momentum before he could blow the whistle on G.R.I.P.'s plan. Kenta had been minutes away, if that. Realizing he was out of options, Arcada gripped his radio hard.

"Alright, assholes, you took my guns, and now I'm about to lose all my force's pokemon. You're seeing what I'm seeing, right? Well, you're the ones who let him get this far, so here's your last chance to fix this. It's time for the nuclear option."


	57. Chapter 57

The first thing Hibiki saw was the hazy form of scenery flashing by. As his consciousness returned, he found that he was strapped into the passenger seat of a car, looking through the windshield. The back of his head throbbed painfully, but he shook himself awake and glared at the driver sitting beside him. Curtis glanced at him, did a double-take, then jerked the vehicle back on course, returning his eyes to the road.

"Good morning. Well, late morning," he said with a guilt-inflected undertone. "Sorry for rushing you out of nowhere and punching you in the head like that. Your brother's orders."

"My-" Hibiki felt a wave of dizziness, shook his head, then tried again. "My brother ordered you to hit me on the head?"

"Well, uh . . . no. Those weren't the exact words." Curtis swallowed, and cleared his throat, gazing solidly ahead at the road. "He charged me to get you out of there before the, uh, poop hit the fan. This was a couple days back. Said he'd use a secret phrase to signal when it was time. Remember when he was yelling 'RELEASE our pokemon' to the camera? That was supposed to be it." Curtis shook his head. "Of course, the original plan was supposed to be that you would be in your designated seat, only a couple rows away from mine. In the end, to get to you, I had to sneak down below the stadium without getting caught. I guess I had nothing to worry about though, with Kenta distracting everyone's attention like he did."

Anger welled up inside of Hibiki. It aggravated his headache, but he burst out anyway. "What the goddamn HELL! I TOLD him that I would be with him to the end! I can't believe he pulled the rug out from under me at the last second!"

"He said you'd react that way," sighed Curtis, gripping the steering wheel with one hand and fishing through his pocket with the other. "Look, I know how you feel. I told Kenta over the phone that I didn't want to miss the main event either. But . . . here we are. I can't stress enough how important it was to him that your future be secure, whatever happens back there."

Curtis pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it into Hibiki's lap. "I'm not turning around, so don't ask. But I will let you borrow that, if you wanted to watch the live stream at PKTV's website. Just because we aren't there, doesn't mean we have to miss it, right?"

Hibiki tapped a few buttons on the digital keyboard, and in a moment he was looking down on a field of movement from a high, all-encompassing view. It was like the camera man had rushed to the highest seat in the stadium, and somehow managed to position himself atop the safety wall to view the chaos outside. Just beyond the Indigo Coliseum wall, a mass of people and pokemon were pounding against each other in all-out war. There was no question that the further army of Silhouette-controlled pokemon were winning, beating aside smaller and less-experienced trainer pokemon by the dozens for every one. Yet paradoxically, as time wore on, they were pushed backwards and recalled, retreating before the waves of lesser pokemon that continued to fall in one or two hits. Hibiki soon noticed another trend: pokemon that had seemed to be on the other side just minutes ago were now reappearing on the side of the stadium trainers.

 _He did it,_ Hibiki thought, his body tingling with hope and pride. _Any second now, the camera guy will recognize that Kenta's turning the tide like we had always planned! I wish I could be there to explain it for him._

A thought occurred to him. _There's no live reporting going on here. I wonder how much trouble the media's going to get in just for filming this? And all the people with Kenta, for that matter. He and I kicked the Beedrill nest, but how many people will be stung? . . . I should have been there._

Within the taped audio of the phone, a roar of animal pain suddenly issued. Curtis glanced warily at Hibiki for a moment. "What was that?"

"I'm not sure, but it sounded like . . ." As Hibiki watched, the camera guy swiveled the lens so that it turned inwards toward the stadium's electronic screen. "A Typhlosion."

...

"Baku!" Kenta dropped the Master Ball he was holding, turning fully around as the cry of pain issued from within the stadium. He bolted through the main entrance, ignoring the quizzical looks of Brendan and Red. The burning ring of fire left by Belle had not receded, but Kenta took no notice of the heat as he stared up at the image on the screen. There, in what looked to be a gymnasium-sized room made entirely of cement, lay a red creature surrounded by at least ten Marowak. It was bruised and bloodied, and the collar of flames around its neck had dwindled to almost nothing. At the slightest movement from the miserable creature, a Marowak would fling a spinning bone club at it, beating it into submission. The wretch gave the appearance of ferret roadkill, only it could still breathe, and it screamed when struck.

"Baku!" Kenta cried in a throat-tearing wail that reverberated off the walls.

"Do I have your attention?" came the voice of Jenn. "Good."

Kenta stood rooted, arms limp at his sides, gazing up at the screen as Jenn continued in an icy voice. "You'll have to forgive the brutal treatment. Believe me, nobody regrets it more than I do, but whatever training you put him through . . . it's made this necessary. Your Typhlosion- Baku, right-? is a singularity. All Typhlosion are supposed to have high speed and firepower, but low defenses. But yours . . ."

Jenn gave a sigh, as one who has just been given a very large workload. "You know what? I could reprimand you for being such a warlord and training a berserker, but that would probably just feed your defiance. It's funny how you get to know a trainer by the pokemon he raises. How about I sum up what Baku's been doing since he came into my care? And then I'll let you know what I'm leading up to."

Kenta said nothing. He continued staring up at his bloodied and beaten Typhlosion on the scoreboard screen, face pale, body stiff. From behind him, Red approached nervously, half-glancing at the screen.

"Gold, the Military Police are backing away, but th-" He stopped as Kenta subconsciously held up a hand to hush him, never taking his eyes off the screen. Jenn was talking.

"Singularity is what 'S-class' stands for. True S-class pokemon are nearly as rare as shiny discolored ones. I first suspected yours was one when he fought down five A-class pokemon at the same time. Thanks to you, we've had to rethink his containment procedures several times over. After a few dozen broken Ultra Balls, Timer Balls, and Repeat Balls, at least a dozen more A-class pokemon put into physical rehabilitation, two researchers forced into early retirement, and a partridge in a pear tree, we've settled on the current conditions you see now. Concrete walls two feet thick, an oxygen-reduced climate, a 24-hour live surveillance, and a force of ten Marowak who are motivated purely by self-preservation. Oh, and occasionally we have to break- well, REbreak the S-class's legs."

Kenta's eyes stared on, wide and aghast with horror- but of a certain kind- the sort that comes before frenzied rage. Jenn must have noticed, because her conversational pace changed.

"I have it on good authority that this pokemon is the very reason you started your crusade in the first place. As you've now heard, he's hardly been a cooperative guest; he takes after his master. I, for one, am willing to have him off my hands."

The image suddenly changed back to Jenn's face, a curdling smile upon her lips, and her fingers folded together. It was the same look that Silvaki Kurisawa wore. "Listen carefully, Kenta Nyna. I'm prepared to make a deal with you. I offer it exactly once, and on my terms alone. You fought this hard and this long to get your Typhlosion back. As a reward, though it is unprecedented, I will give him back. All I ask in return is that you disappear, and you stay quiet this time. I'm not implying your death, because I don't need your martyr status factored into the equation. Just you- gone. What is your answer?"

Kenta opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. He covered his eyes, his face wrinkled with worry, and still he tried to speak, without success. Red glared up at Jenn's face upon the screen.

"So, all of a sudden you've gone from threats to business deals. That was a quick change. Do you even realize that the world is watching you try to bribe Gold?"

"Things have changed in the past five minutes," Jenn replied, no longer smiling, "and it wasn't just because of your obnoxious meddling here. But things are far enough along now that it hardly matters anymore."

Kenta raised his head, and finally managed to speak in a hoarse, croaking voice. "You can guarantee I'll get Baku back?"

Red turned to him in surprise. "Gold!"

"Not immediately," said Jenn, smiling once again as if pleased by his answer. "It would need to be somewhere a little closer to the Pokemon League HQ, due to that localized anomaly in your area blocking teleports. Besides, a little down payment is in order first. I want you to go back out and tell all those trainers what I've just told you. Tell them you've succeeded in what you've set out to do, and now you're going to disappear. Make sure to be clear that you do NOT want anyone looking for you."

Red stared hard at Kenta, but his eyes were blank. Kenta slowly reached up and took off his hat. "I am . . . so . . . tired." His voice was hollow.

"Gold!" Red grabbed him by the cuff of his shirt and shook him with one arm. "I don't know if I believe in the devil, but I'm telling you, this feels like a deal with the devil as much as anything I've ever seen. Don't tell me you're out of spirit now, when the revolution's gotten this far!"

"God, shut UP!" Jenn suddenly erupted, breaking off abruptly from her former composed demeanor. "You blind, stubborn, intolerable buffoon! Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm only offering diplomacy because I considered that it might be a little easier. The truth is, I don't NEED to deal, I don't NEED your consent, I am already beyond you! Maybe _this_ will make it easier to grasp!"

She ducked off-screen for just a second, but that was all the more time it took for things to change. At once, the stadium grew suddenly darker, as if a thick cloud had blocked out the sun overhead. There was a sharp whistle like that of high winds, then with a crack, something appeared at the very center of the stadium ring. It was a mix of palatinate purple and dark gray, with physically little girth but great height. On its fur were sickly green splotches of test tube markings, and all along its body were black veins that stood out like worms. Its dead eyes stared at nothing, and yet saw everything. Anyone who had ever seen pictures from the Mew Clone Project off the Deep Web might have described this creature as a blacker Mewtwo, if it were stretched to the breaking point.

"This is Mew3," said Jenn. "He's another S-class pokemon. A minute ago, he was handling the Elite Four members who had remained behind from the Master's Tournament. Now he's here with you."

Mew3 raised its head very slowly. As Kenta and Red stepped back toward the flame wall, Jenn's smile widened. "He's my new pokemon."


	58. Chapter 58

"Mew 3 . . ." Kenta whispered in a gurgled voice, backing away. He and Red were getting dangerously close to the fire. "So that's what I saw."

Red glanced at him a moment, but kept his eyes trained on the dark Mew clone. "You only told me briefly about it. Do you know what it's capable of?"

"No. I was really hoping it would stay dormant in its test tube. I wonder if we can fight it . . . but honestly, I have doubts."

"What are you two whispering about down there?" came Jenn's voice, unfittingly light and sing-song. "Don't leave me out just 'cause I'm a girl."

"I thought it looked familiar," said Red grimly, "and I concur. Mew clones are next to unbeatable."

"But are they uncatchable?" replied Kenta, activating the Snag Machine on his arm. "No time for second-guessing . . . this wasn't Plan A, but it'll have to do!"

He flung the modified Master Ball, but it hadn't even flown a quarter of the way toward Mew3 before it exploded like a grenade in midair. On the big screen, Jenn waggled her finger and clicked her tongue.

"Don't be a thief. Wasn't that what all the upset was about?"

"BOLT!" shouted Kenta, a note of panic in his voice.

"So many targets," Jenn said in an almost dreamy voice, as the Salamence whirled through the stadium entrance toward Kenta and Red. "But who to punish first? Eenie, meenie, miney, moe."

An expression of agony came over Bolt's face, and he and his wings were suddenly separated in midair. He crashed face-first into the ground, leaving a trench of dirt and blood trailing behind him.

"Catch a Raikou by the toe."

Kenta, who had just started to run toward Bolt, screamed and fell over as his toe bones were psychically snapped apart inside his shoes.

"If he hollers, let him go."

Red, who had been watching on in horror, was suddenly flung skyward like a rag doll. He didn't stop at the stadium height limit either; he continued to ascend upward as though gravity had reversed for him. He might been thrown much further, if an overhead figure about his size had not suddenly appeared to intercept him. The two drifted back to the ground as gently as through water, and from where he lay, Kenta stared at Red's rescuer. It was not Charizard. In fact, it looked very much like Mew3, only shorter, white, and purple. Kenta had seen this creature barely a week ago.

"Mewtwo? . . . You came!"

The Mewtwo gave Kenta a momentary glance, before turning its focus to Mew3. Its eyes flared with a feral light, and it gave off a gurgling, echoing cry. Mew3 made no answer, except to fire a ball of dark energy at the newcomer. Mewtwo tossed Red hastily aside before throwing up an invisible barrier, dissipating the shadow ball in a shock wave of power. In the next second, the two Mew clones ducked and weaved around the burning stadium, launching rail guns and photon blasts at each other while Red elbowed his way along the ground until he was beside Kenta again.

"Were you expecting this?" he shouted over the boom of concrete exploding, sending tiny bits everywhere.

"Sort of," Kenta grunted, lifting himself to sitting position and recalling Bolt into his Friend Ball. "But I didn't think Mewtwo would look so . . . wild."

"I'm guessing you've never been to Cerulean Cave, then," replied Red. That's where I first met her."

"Met . . . her?" Kenta did a double-take at Mewtwo, just as rocks were floating around her. "Wait a minute, it's not from Mount Quena?"

"Nope. But that one must have told this one-" A section of seats from a nearby front row was blasted, sending bits of molten plastic raining around the two trainers. "Look, we can wonder later. Can you walk? We need to get out of here!"

Gritting his teeth, Kenta got up and hobbled. Red pulled his arm over his neck, and the two of them stumbled toward the entrance of the stadium.

"Oh, no you don't!" barked Jenn, still looking down at the spectacle from her large-screen monitor. "We weren't done here, just because you brought along another uninvited friend. Mew3!"

The dark Mew clone blew Kenta and Gold off their feet with a sweep of its hand, but paid for its moment of distraction with a jolt of electricity from Mewtwo. The trainers fell on their faces, once again swept clear to the other end of the arena.

"Disable!" shouted Jenn.

The next second, both Mew3 and Mewtwo stopped moving. They hovered perfectly still in fighting positions, arms outstretched in "pushing" motions as their eyes bored into each other. The fire continued to blaze, and more rubble fell, but there was no more noise, except for the shouting of the trainers outside the arena. Then Jenn spoke, her voice cold and mirthless.

"Look at what a mess you've made. All I wanted to do was show you why you can't win. That meant scaring you a little, but not killing you. Now, I could tell Mew3 to break the concentration of Disable, but then that would continue this battle, and you would die in the crossfire. This does not end well for you."

"And what about you, huh?" Kenta demanded, anger and sorrow mixing in his voice. "Everything is still live. You cut Bolt's wings off on television, you monster! Do you think sparing me will dampen Japan's rage against all you have done?"

Jenn was silent for a second.

"Mew3. Come."

Before Kenta could look, Mew3 had vanished. The creature hadn't teleported, but the sheer speed of its departure was comparable only to its entrance- the blink of an eye.

"The end game here is not the threat of death, but the hope of cooperation," Jenn remarked. "The Japanese are a proud people who would prefer death to certain things. That is impractical. Death is for the enemies of this great nation. We will compel cooperation with other methods. No more infighting of people, or pokemon- we will propose smarter solutions."

Red snorted. "Hear that, Gold? Behind her war hawk exterior is a dove of peace . . . and underneath, another hawk."

Before Kenta could reply, a boom came from the middle of the arena. Mew3 was back, and it was holding a limp, fiery creature of black and gold under one skinny arm. Kenta gave a strangled yell of recogntion, running forward.

"Baku!"

"Ah-ah-ah." Jenn's voice stopped him. "Not yet. The deal has changed slightly. I've decided that I don't want you to disappear after all. I want you somewhere nice and safe. Mew3 will leave your Typhlosion here, and fly you to the Silhouette Police still waiting outside."

Kenta looked longingly at Bakuphoon, but covered his eyes and shook his head. "No. I can't. Going with Arcada is suicide."

For a moment, Jenn's eyes widened with madness, and she took a deep breath as if ready to explode. However, she deflated a second later, glanced down off-screen as if listening to something, and returned her sight to the camera, composed once more.

"There is a 'Daisuke Shin' among their ranks. Will you be satisfied if he escorts you away?"

Kenta swallowed. " . . . Yes."

"Good. Then let's hurry this up."

Kenta turned to Red, offering his cap. "Well, then. I gotta go. Please take care of Baku-"

"The S-class is to be put in a Pokemon Professor's custody, not a loyalist's for you," said Jenn sternly.

"Alright. Just . . . here, give this to my brother, will you?" Kenta shoved his hat into Red's hands, breathing thickly. "And just in case, tell him that I love him."

Red looked down at the hat, black and gold like the pokemon and trainer who had proved a stronger bond than his and his team's. "You don't have to do this, Gold," he said with difficulty, a strangled sob threatening to block his throat. "We've got a whole alliance of capable pokemon trainers standing just outside. With the help of Mewtwo here, we could totally beat this Mew3."

"Yeah. Maybe." Kenta shrugged, backing into Mew3's waiting arms. "But then people would probably die after all, and nobody wants that. Plus . . . I've done some bad stuff. Good intentions or no, it's kind of a relief that I'm going to jail."

Baku's eyes slowly opened, and from where he lay on the ruined pavement, he weakly looked up just as Mew3's arms clamped over Kenta's chest. Kenta glanced down and smiled.

"It's gonna be okay, buddy. Goodbye."

With that, he was lifted off like a rocket.


	59. Chapter 59

*Epilogue*

It needn't be said that Hibiki's reunion with his family was a tearful one of joy and sorrow. Compared to the chaos storming the rest of Johto, New Bark Town's was relatively miniscule, but it was still overwhelming for all. Technically, the first thing that had happened occurred in Kotone's house. Upon seeing Gold, the Champion from New Bark Town, reemerge alive on screen before the world, Mama and Papa burst into her room to share the news- only to find her and Marina watching on the bed. Before they could get into the parental twenty questions game of "why is there a strange girl in our house," a loud ruckus started up outside. Apparently, other locals had seen Kenta on TV, and were all clambering to give the news to the Nyna family. Mom and Dad Nyna had hurried to their televisions, and the rest of the town (including Professor Elm) saw fit to invite themselves inside for this special occasion.

Naturally, the conversation took another inevitable turn. "We found the elder Nyna brother. Now, where's the younger one?" Marina and Kotone could only stand to watch the helpless desperation on the faces of Hibiki's parents for so long. They had just confessed, and were in the middle of spilling the beans, when Curtis's car pulled up to the curb (behind all the other uninvited cars). Then in came Hibiki, as confused as could be, to a house full of people he barely knew. His parents both cried out in surprise and relief to see him, and for a few seconds, or a few minutes, all anyone cared about was making sure he was okay. Then suddenly, the television diverted everyone's attention again, showing footage of the Faction Trainers' police battle outside Indigo Stadium, and the Mew Clone battle within. There was Kenta (and RED!), constantly only a few seconds away from sudden death. As Kenta was televised laying on the ground, Hibiki suddenly noticed that the Snag Machine was no longer on his arm. At some point, after failing to capture Mew3 in a Master Ball, he had gotten rid of it.

The news remained on television long into the afternoon, and into the night. New reports continued to pour into the PKTV network, but with time, they were refined into basically reliable reports. Some of the main takeaways included:

"A large, hidden stash of pokemon was unearthed beneath the Indigo League HQ, belonging not only to former Kanto and Johto Pokemon Masters, but distinguished ace and veteran trainers as well. Excavation was prompted by footage found on a miniature camera with an orange dragon scale lying nearby."

"Several dozen masked men were arrested after trespassing into the Elite Four chamber. Johto E4's Karen managed to hold off their pokemon until Champions Steven Stone and Lance Wataru arrived back from Indigo Stadium to assist. Two have been arrested and detained for questioning."

"All active-duty members of the Indigo Elite personnel were found unconscious, along with every one of their pokemon but those with Dark-type attributes. Karen, who had been confined to the medical ward for her electric burns, reported sighting of the mysterious creature that had incapacitated the other Elites."

"'Mew-three,' as it is being dubbed, apparently attacked the Indigo HQ on the orders of former Kanto League Champion Jenn Tsiro. Master Tsiro's whereabouts are currently unknown, nor can any group affiliation be confirmed to her at this time."

"Silvaki Kurisawa, the Chair of the Government Restrictive Institute on Pokemon, made an impromptu announcement today that he would be stepping down from his position, effective immediately. When asked why, Mr. Kurisawa had no comment."

"Captain Arcada of Silhouette also gave a resignation notice shortly after retreating his forces from Indigo Plateau. Multiple reports of Military Police infighting are still coming in. We'll keep you abreast of the updates."

"Indigo Stadium was nearly burned to the ground, until local trainers succeeded in putting out the fire with the help of their newly-acquired Water-type pokemon. As of now, these trainers remain on the premises, setting up tents and camps. Though they are divided into particular groups, the factions are uniform in their resolve to regain the rest of the pokemon that were once theirs."

"Kenta Nyna, or Master Gold, thought to have died in 2007, emerged alive during the first round of the Indigo Master's Tournament. He was donning the disguise of Champion Birch, and was later taken into custody for disturbing the peace and resisting arrest."

"Although Mr. Nyna appears to be the leader of the trainer revolt, it is confirmed now that other Pokemon Masters were among the crowd fighting the Police. The most prominent of his supporters include Champion Birch, Master Red, Master Blue, and Champion Cedars."

EXTRACT FROM KENTA NYNA'S ARREST STATEMENT: "I've done plenty of things that I deserve to be locked up for. You could say I acted under duress, because everything I've done was to rescue a friend of mine. But that's just a flimsy excuse; I probably would have done the same stuff anyway. I'm a symptom, not the disease. And the disease isn't some reckless mindset that unsupervised ten-year-olds should go around seeking battles with monsters in their pockets. I agree that we need to work on that- ask Brendan Birch, he's got a great idea going. The disease is man's thirst to replace God and rule other men. You do that, and you'll get guys like me popping up real quick, to remind you that you ain't a god. If G.R.I.P. continues to be challenged while I'm behind bars, you'll know I'm telling the truth. As for me, well . . . I'm upholding my end of a deal. Any more discord that goes on won't be because of me. By the time I get out again, this conflict will long be over, one way or the other. All I ask is- Professor Elm, if you're watching- please take care of my pokemon. And to all my family and friends, stay safe."


	60. Chapter 60 (End)

Dear Hibiki,

I heard that you would begin your journey today, though by the time this gets to you, you'll have already picked your starter. You already know who I would recommend, but hey, I wouldn't want to project too much of myself upon you. Let me know when you get to your first pokecenter, okay? Not to creep you out, but I'm like one of those dance moms who's now basically living her life through her kid. Prison life isn't too dangerous for me (seriously, thank God), but it is unbelievably BORING. My cell mate is some guy who wouldn't know a pokemon from a My Little Pony. The authorities keep any potential trainers out of my cage. Luckily for me, Shin keeps out the stabbers. That guy's been good to me.

So, funny story. The other day, I had two visitors at almost the exact same time. First up was the former savior of Orre, Maikeru, that kid who had Steven's Metagross on him. He came in to gloat, giving me the old "I-told-you-so" speech. Then here comes Marina, and out of nowhere, she punches him full in the face. Satisfying as that was to see, the truth is, I don't grudge Maikeru. From what I've gathered, he had a traumatic experience some years ago, when Cipher busted into his lab to steal his professor the first time. We just really got off on the wrong foot, and it never got better. But you know what? I actually respect him somewhat, because he has a soft spot for keeping siblings out of trouble. If you had seen him, and he'd seen you, you'd know what I mean.

As long as we're on the subject of acquaintances, I do wonder whatever became of our sleepy friend. I haven't heard anything about him in here, or on TV, so I suppose no news is good news. I'm pretty sure Lefty left him alone. Same applies for him- if I ever find out Lefty's been put in here, Shin's gonna have his work cut out for him.

It seems the world outside has gotten a lot more interesting with me out of the picture. Isn't that ironic? So, Team Magma now has Groudon, and Galactic managed to capture Palkia. Every time you think G.R.I.P. has gotten a grip on the situation, new details like this emerge. If the true shadow organization of G.R.I.P. ever is unmasked and dismantled, we'll have quite a chaotic mess to deal with afterward. What a pain. Good thing it's not my problem; I'd hate to be Jenn right now.

I know it's way early to be thinking about this, but if . . . well, WHEN you get to the Elite Four- 'cause you're going to get there- give Karen my regards. Actually- while I'm thinking of it, thank Kotone for me as well. You know . . . for the favor she did for my cousin? I'm like, ninety percent sure she's traveling with you. Good thing you've got a Gardevoir chaperone, you naughty dog, you.

Hey, you know that I'm just teasing. I'm sure that whatever company you're traveling with is better for having you with them. You have a heart of gold. You belong out there, and not in here, no matter how lonely I may get without you. I always enjoy hearing from you, and I am thrilled- THRILLED- that you are getting to live out your training dream. No matter how it turns out, know that I am with you to the end.

Love you, runt.

-Kenta

...

Dear Kenta:

I GOT A PHANPHY! Wooooot! And my fourth badge, so that was nice. This also marks the occasion where the training wheels come off, and Gardevoir heads back to Professor Elm for reassignment. Quilava's ready to evolve any day, so it's cool.

I've been meaning to tell you since Goldenrod City: I ran into Bill. He was in the Radio Station, making adjustments to the Signal Disruptor so that there would be a bigger range blocking pokeball teleports. It's a shame that we have to use technology to block former technology, at least until we can keep it from being put to evil uses. Anyway, Bill seems to be more relaxed than . . . I imagined he would be. He saw my hat and thought I was you, then he was asking all kinds of things about how you were doing. I said you were fine, and he said that your old pokemon team will be happy to hear that. He's keeping them in 'special storage' for when I get my 'eighth badge.' Does that mean he intends to hand them off to me?

Oh, he's also in the process of making bio-mechanical wings for Bolt! I'm sure that's a pretty ginormous undertaking for a guy who's already as busy as Bill is, but he said that it was the saddest sight in the world to see a Salamence without wings. He said that when he succeeds, it will be a giant blue middle finger to that Mew3 abomination that psychically cut them off in the first place. By the way, yes, I realize that creature is still flying around out there somewhere. I'm being careful, so don't remind me again. G.R.I.P. vs Japan is just the world we live in, and Red and the others are looking out for us.

Kotone and I separated for now; she went west, and I turned east. We didn't break up or anything, but Shimera wants my help with something, and I didn't want to involve her. I want to tell you more, but in case someone's reading our mail exchanges, I'd better not. Suffice it to say that it's faction business. It's too bad about all this secrecy. Ever since the G.R.I.P. initiative went into effect, so many stories have gone untold. All you ever seem to get are fleeting glimpses of unfinished business . . . I wish I had gotten a better idea of the things other people than you accomplished. I would have liked to know who else was fighting Jenn and the secret G.R.I.P. forces at the Indigo Plateau back then. I want to know what Ivy and Ian and their friends pulled off over the winter months. I would gladly listen to the story of ANY trainer who joined the resistance with only two pokemon. Perhaps one day we will hear them in full. Until then, we'll make 'em. You'll always be my first inspiration for that.

Stay in touch, bro.

-Hibiki

FIN


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